hidden spots
by bells-mannequin
Summary: 64 hidden spots for a little bit of smiling, laughing, crying—but always loving. A Yamamoto/Haru drabble collection for LJ's 64 damn prompts. — chapter 63: They're in public, and they're friends with fucking benefits, and this is not the time to feel so much. There never is. There shouldn't ever be.
1. 2 AM

**Title:** hidden spots

**Type:** Oneshot/Drabble collection, a.k.a. Another Way To Finally Kill All Friggin' _64 damn prompts _

**Pairing:** Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word Count:** 203

**Rating:** K

**Prompt:** number one—_2 A.M._

**Disclaimer:** on my profile; this applies to the whole story.

* * *

><p><strong>2 A.M.<strong>

It was two in damn the morning and Yamamoto Takeshi couldn't sleep.  
>Oh, and by the way, that bugged him to no end. He <em>never<em> had problems with falling asleep—only with the waking up part, but he reckoned that was more of a difficulty people had in general.  
>He squeezed his eyes shut—<p>

_Are you still in love with Tsuna?_

_—_and groaned.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Miura Haru, in this stupidly pretty skirt and blouse and with her doe eyes opened wide, dessert fork still midway between her mouth and the plate where her cake lay. He even heard Lambo in the Sawada kitchen breaking one or two or ten pieces of tableware.

_What does it even matter to you, Takeshi-kun? It's not like _you_'re interested in me, right?_

She was nice and upbeat and pretty. She was clever and funny and she was loyal and brave to a fault. She was stubborn and liked to argue about the stupidest and pettiest things. She was amazing.

She thought that he wasn't interested in her.

"Of course I'm interested in you," he murmured to his ceiling, "what's there not to be interested in."

She was _so _stupid.

* * *

><p>Yay, a new story!<p>

I won't promise too much on the updating or anything. This is just me, hoping/dreaming/wishing to finally, finally finish all 64 damn prompts. So, basically, there should be 64 stories-but well, we'll see, we'll see. Gotta stay positive and blahh.

Reviews would be lovely, requests are welcomed, chocolate is dearly appreciated. Bear in mind that English is not my first language, so if there are any mistakes, do tell. Improvement is always good :D

Cheers,  
>bells<p> 


	2. chess

**Title:** hidden spots

**Type:** Oneshot/Drabble collection, a.k.a. Another Way To Finally Kill All Friggin' _64 damn prompts _

**Pairing:** Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word Count:** 232

**Rating:** K+

**Prompt:** number fourteen—_chess_

**A/N**: Read, review, return (your books punctually to the library …)!

* * *

><p><strong>chess<strong>

Haru is nothing if not The Ditzy Genius Girl, so it's not _that _surprising to any of her friends that she's also a real chess pro.

When Reborn gets hold on that information, he starts playing other games than chess with her; the only thing they have in common is that they're all kind of strategy-style. Then, one day after an especially nerve-jangling situation with the Zanolla Famiglia after a whole month of nerve-jangling situations (a few more holes in body parts where there shouldn't be any, a few broken bones, a bit too fatigued to go to college in the morning—but you know, _whatever_), one of Tsuna's father's colleagues asks Haru what their best course of action would be.

She looks once, twice, thrice towards him and the other boys—all a little bit more bruised than usual, a little bit more annoyed with this never-ending day—then interlaces her hands in her lap and starts with a plan she names in all seriousness "Success Plan Number One For Not Letting The Guys Get Beat Up Again".

Her name becomes kind of infamous after a while, but Yamamoto reassures himself every time the fear for her becomes unbearable: that nobody would guess that she's Vongola Decimo's most formidable strategist if they ever saw her wearing that Namehage-costume or saying "Hahi" or just simply being _Haru—_that no one will take her away from him.


	3. explode

**Title:** hidden spots

**Pairing:** Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word Count:** 64

**Rating: **K

**Prompt: **number twenty—_explode_

**A/N: **This is ridiculously short and from a time when I thought I'd do _64 damn sentences_, you know, instead of _64 damn drabbles_. And I really tried to make it go a little bit longer but—this is it. There is no more word that could fit in with this "drabble", at least in my opinion.  
>Still, I love this sentence to pieces, I don't even know why.<p>

Also, thanks for the alerts the story got, reviews are always appreciated and blahh. You know the drill :)

* * *

><p><strong>20. explode<br>**

One day, he enters their bathroom and sees her in the bathtub, her smile exploding like the grapes beneath her feet—because he is who he is, he only asks how they will get all this juice into bottles; because she is who she is, she starts laughing and patting his cheek, as if saying_ My, you still have a lot to learn._

* * *

><p><em>So<em> short! xD


	4. charm

**Title**: hidden spots

**Pairing**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 282

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: Nummer dreiunddreißig (- "33". Counting in English gets boring so quickly … ^^)—_charm_

**A/N**: I kind of like this drabble. I hope you like it as well. If not, tell me why. If yes, tell me why. (Ah, how amusing I'm feeling today … xD)  
>On another note: Just FYI, these drabbles <span>don't have any correlation<span>, I don't think so. Some will be pre!relationship, some post!relationship (dun-dun-dun), some fluffy!8680, some angsty!8680. And so on and so forth. Still, if you want any particular "story line" (ahem) continued, do tell! I'm open to requests and suggestions :)

Thanks, love and sweets for reviews,

bells

* * *

><p><strong>charm<strong>

Yamamoto Takeshi was the most charming boy in the whole wide world. He also didn't have the slightest clue about it.

Perhaps that was part of his charm, too—but Haru wasn't too sure about it, she decided quite firmly, as she watched him batting on the baseball field. _If he knew what effect he has on people … _She frowned a little. _Maybe he'd turn into an appalling, unlikeable person. _Well, as appalling and unlikeable as a charming person could possibly be.

The girl idly tore her napkin to bits as she continued her train of thought, deeply concentrated.

"Yo."

She flinched, almost subliminally, squealed a girlish and totally characteristic "Hahi!", then tried to suppress the blush that she felt blooming under her skin, warm and embarrassing. "Gosh, Yamamoto-kun, you don't walk around startling girls like this, do you hear me? _Never_ do that again! My poor heart …" She rested a hand on her chest, directly on the spot under which her heart pounded erratically.  
>Haru really tried to convince her heart, that it was stupid (charming) Yamamoto-kun's fault for scaring her like that—but what did a heart want to hear when it palpitated like a butterfly's wings, when it ached with sweet, sweet feelings?<br>It just wouldn't want to cooperate with her, would it?

"Are you okay, Haru?" Yamamoto-kun's voice was concerned. "You're, um, really red. Do you feel sick? Did you catch a cold?" He touched her forehead with a warm hand. "I'm gonna buy you something cold to drink, okay? Don't move, I'll just be a sec."

Her eyes followed him automatically as he turned around to get her a beverage.

_You're a goner_, her traitorous heart mumbled.

"This is not fair," she said to no one in particular.

* * *

><p>I feel like I didn't get some sayingsidioms/etc right - if my intuition is right, please tell me. Of course, that applies to all drabbles/everything I post in English.

Have a nice weekend!


	5. rip

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 134

**Rating**: T for … "innuendo" (oh my …)

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 16—_rip_

**A/N**: What, dear god, would happen if I tried to write a lemon? -_-

* * *

><p><strong>rip<strong>

"Did you just really rip my dress open?" Haru's voice and tone would've been menacing and threatening in every other situation than in this one; she sounds breathless, _is_ breathless.

"Well …" Yamamoto grins into her skin, presses a kiss to her collarbone, puts his hand through the rip that's his fault. "Could've been me, could've been you, you know?" She makes this little noise in the back of her throat that makes him weak in the knees and tugs at his hair till he is on the same level as her so she can kiss him full on the mouth.

He doesn't even notice her little impish smile before it's too late and his shirt is off, too.

* * *

><p>You may review.<br>(xD)


	6. correspondence

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto/Haru, Reborn

**Word count**: 264

**Rating**: T, for Reborn's potty mouth/thought

**Spoilers**: there will be none

**Prompt**: 31—_correspondence_

**A/N**: Ahaha. This started out as serious but then this drabble just decided to, well, not be serious anymore, so it ended rather abruptly with a "happy" ending. Maybe I'm going to polish that up after I finish the remaining 59 prompts …

Yeah, who am I kidding?

As always, love and cookies to reviewers and alerters (is that even a word) and so on and so forth.

- bells

* * *

><p><strong>correspondence<strong>

Neither Miura Haru, nor Yamamoto Takeshi are especially honest people. One wouldn't believe it, with all their smiles and laughs and Haru's babbling and Yamamoto's good-natured remarks—but still, that's the truth.  
>Haru hides her feelings behind cheerfulness and her <em>Genki Girl <em>persona (to lift everyone's spirits, to cover up her vulnerabilities).  
>Yamamoto tries to avoid delving into things too deeply, tries to ignore obvious things (to stay innocent a little bit longer, to not burden Tsuna a little bit longer).<p>

Of course_**,**_ however sad it is, in Mafia business, this is often very useful so Reborn encourages that trait in Vongola Decimo's friends slash acquaintances slash Guardians slash Possible Future Love Interests—even more so since it doesn't seem like a lot of other people of Tsuna's tenth generation have this characteristic.

Somewhere down the road, however, Reborn decides to recognize the feeling gnawing at his stomach and pounding in his head with increasing frequency as regret—still, it's all too late, he realises that now.

Nowadays, he only wonders how much longer the two of them are going to make sheep's eyes at each other, how much longer they're going to continue thinking silly things like '_She'll never see me like this'_, '_He's more interested in Gokudera-san than in me' _and so on and so forth.

Reborn tries not to sigh with relief too openly when, on one sunny afternoon after what felt like _years_ of pent-up emotions, they enter the kitchen, both red-faced and tongue-tied and smiling like the two adorable teenaged little idiots they are.

He's too old for shit like this.


	7. sometimes, most of the time

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru, Vongola Guardians (sort of …)

**Word count**: 233

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: Well, if you don't know what a 10-year-bazooka is …

**Prompt**: 44—_turpentine kisses and mistaken blows_

**A/N: **Usually, the prompts are perfect for the title of my drabbles. This time, it was more about "boyfriend" than "turpentine kisses and mistaken blows". Still, having the prompts is great for when I don't have any clue what name I could give the respective drabbles.

Ah, before I forget it, I have a little question: What can you casually say as a kind of "goodbye"? I'm always feeling quite useless when I try to say a nice goodbye, you know? :D

(how about, um) Farewell,

- bells

* * *

><p><strong>sometimes, most of the time<br>**

Sometimes, being the Rain Guardian's girlfriend sucks big time.

For example, when one tries to bring lunch for one's boyfriend, only to be attacked not once, but _thrice _by people who can't decide to just be annoying _or _dangerous, but rather have to set their mind on being _both_.

For example when one gets hit by the ten-year-bazooka to end in _exactly the same situation only ten years later_. For example, when, instead of being able to ogle one's now ten-year-older ridiculously good-looking boyfriend, one gets in between a crossfire of the kind that only Vongola Tenth's Guardians could fabricate.

One tries to look at the positive side of the things—but really, getting back to ten-years-earlier smelling like turpentine and not knowing why (one remembers that being shot at with the ten-year-bazooka also means forgetting the things seen in the future) is not what one would deem a good day. Not even an average day.  
>Not even a bad day.<p>

But then one's boyfriend (the perfect kind of boyfriend that cannot be found anywhere) comes around the corner and smiles that one just cannot help but smile back.

"Takeshi-kun shouldn't come closer."

"Why?"

"I smell really weird. And I'm angry. _Very_ angry. Stupid Gokudera-san, stupid Kyoko no nii-chan, stupid, stupid, stupid."

"Maa, maa," he grins and leans down to kiss her.

Most of the time, being the Rain Guardian's girlfriend is awesome.

* * *

><p>Reviews are appreciated :)<p> 


	8. duty

**Title**: hidden spots

**Pairing**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 264

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 15—_duty_

**A/N**: Maggiorana = marjoram. Timo = thyme. Yeah, they're CEDEF members and, I'd guess, probably best friends with Oregano. (Well, at least it wasn't my idea to start this kind of pun …)

As always, reviews would be utterly lovely!  
>- bells<p>

* * *

><p><strong>duty<strong>

Nowadays, Yamamoto Takeshi has a lot of duties. He is one of Vongola's guardians, he is the tranquillity to Gokudera's aggressiveness, he plays baseball, he trains himself and Shigure Kintoki and takes care of Lambo and I-Pin and the girls, he sweeps TakeSushi every evening after closing time and sometimes he even tries to study for university.

Sometimes, it all becomes pretty heavy and the duties become burdens—sometime he wonders, does he like his life right now? is he content?—but then, his friends are all there to carry a little bit of the weight for him, with him.

Tsuna comes to his university baseball games, Gokudera and Dokuro pick Haru up from her part-time job, he trains together with Hibari, Ryohei-sempai goes jogging with him and Oyaji grins and cuffs him. Haru lets him nap in her lap and gives him brownies and smiles and kisses and hugs.

She talks about her university courses and how she trains with Maggiorana and Timo to sharpen her skills as a rising strategist of the Vongola Famiglia. She talks about wanting to try out this new ramen recipe and that she's going to cook it for him and his father. She talks and talks and talks—but she is also silent; in the way she touches his cheekbone with a soft thumb, in the way she lets him breathe out every ache and sorrow that's deep in his bones.

After especially excruciating days, he murmurs a "Thank you" and she always answers in the same way ("What for?").

He never realises that, to her, he could never be a burden.


	9. no word of advice

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 365

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 25—_acid_

**A/N**: OMG, what things you find on the internet. Like the BE/AE problem of "Waschbecken", which I think is "bathroom sink" in AE and "washing basin" in BE. And while I try (emphasis on _try_) to use British English (if only because I learned it in school and love the accent), the differences and nuances between the two make me, figuratively speaking, reel. It's hard enough in German but at least that's my mother tongue. I won't even start with other languages.

So, to stop my rant: What do _you_ say for the usually white ceramic bowl thing where you wash your face and brush your teeth?

* * *

><p><strong>no word of advice<br>**

Neither Haru, nor Yamamoto are the type to really argue. Sure, Haru can be prone to little fits that consist of a lot of _Hahi_s and third-person-speeches—but they're _harmless_. A few minutes later, she'll smile again, laugh about her own silliness and give him a kiss on the cheek or a warm hug.

If there _is _need for a serious _serious_ talk, then they do just that. They sit down in the bathroom (mostly the bathroom though there is no reason for that; it's narrow and echoes oddly and isn't the most suitable place for serious talks), her sitting on the toilet lid, him leaning against the bathroom sink.

Regardless, in every relationship there will be heated, surreal, illogical arguments. So, when they will argue, it will be him shouting and fuming and being absolutely and nonsensically furious—it will feel like acid in his veins and he will hate it. Haru's voice, in contrast, will turn very quiet, like the sizzling of acid that burns through metal.  
>In arguments, Haru will cut down any positive feelings, all the happiness and gentleness and friendship and love that's inside her; there's just this switch and she'll be able to look at him like he doesn't matter a thing to her, like he is nothing but a nuisance.<p>

When they will really argue, he'll leave the room eventually, because he won't be able to stand her, and feel _so_, so angry.

Hours and hours later, he will come back, of course he'll come back to her, and enter their flat (_ours, ours, ours_) to find everything laced with darkness. Yamamoto won't turn on any lights, he'll find his way through the flat on his own and find her sitting on the edge of their bed while she looks out of the window; maybe she will be bathed in moonlight, maybe there will not be enough light to make out her features. He will not need to to try either way—he doesn't need to see her face to know what he feels for her.  
>Haru will turn her head towards him and smile, careful and apologetic.<p>

(And they will know that they will be okay.)

* * *

><p>I kind of like this very much. No real reason for that ... :)<p>

Before I forget it: Thanks for reviews and alerts and favourites. Please continue to do so (a.k.a. review and alert and favourite) ^-^  
>– bells<p> 


	10. linger

**Title**: hidden spots

**Pairing**: Yamamoto, Haru

**Word count**: 293

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: For some of the TYL-stuff, mostly the Future Arc, I'd say. So, if you haven't read that yet (go do that first!)—there will be some … allusions.

**Prompt**: 32—_linger_

**A/N**: When I wrote this, I imagined the first light of pre-dawn through closed curtains which were blue and heavy and linen. This oneshot is made of whispers and quiet _I love you_s and metaphors. I even thought about using "metaphor" because I adore this prompt so much I'd love to write another drabble with it—but ultimately, _linger_ fits the best.

**PE** (eh, post editum, of course xD)**:** Yay, can you believe that I have really already gotten 10 drabbles off my list? Wow, I didn't think I'd do it this efficiently :D

* * *

><p><strong>linger<strong>

"Why're you still here, Takeshi-kun?" she mumbles, still half-asleep. The sun hasn't even fully risen yet but Haru is a light sleeper. She doesn't snuggle closer as she awakes—slowly, steadily—but rather moves away from him until there is a distance, at least physically, between them.

Haru tries to not make it harder for him.

"I just can't seem to move," he answers her question ten thousands of heartbeats later. She gazes at the ceiling and remains carefully silent.

"You have to, eventually," she reminds him gently. Her voice is soothing, but her hands stay demurely, tightly, clasped on her stomach.

.

There is so much not said these days, when Kyoko's eyes are always red-rimmed, when Gokudera smokes three packs of cigarettes after being a non-smoker for almost a year, when Hibari is never here, nor there, when Nana's hands shake while they prepare breakfast.  
>(When their Sky is gone and everybody feels as if they could never see—<em>freedom, happiness<em>—again.)

Haru breathes in, breathes out: sadness and tiredness and soreness—_love_.  
>"Stand up, Takeshi-kun, please." Her voice is very small in this precious, precious moment and carries all the vulnerability that she can show no one but him. "If you don't, I don't think anyone else will be able to."<p>

So he does. He washes his face, brushes his teeth, puts on coat and tie and sword and all his burdens. But before he leaves his flat, he returns to his bedroom, leans down and kisses Haru**, **gently.

"Please be careful," she whispers. She reaches for his hands, clasps them in her own—despite herself, she just can't help it.

He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles lopsidedly. He says: "Don't worry, Haru."

.

And maybe tomorrow, he'll say _I love you_.

* * *

><p>review, please! it's only one arrow awayyyy ~<p>

(Ah, I've always wanted to try this one :D)

**.**  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>V<strong>


	11. the beginning is the end is the beginnin

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 544

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: **!** for most of the Future Arc **!**

**Prompt**: 56—_the beginning is the end is the beginning_

**A/N 1**: I never knew about Fettucine Alfredo before I ventured into US-American literature—therefore, the first time I heard the name, I thought it was kind of like a salad. With beetroot. And arugula/roquette. I really don't know why. It just sounded so _healthy_. And then I found out that it's just noodles. With melted butter and cheese. Gross. XD  
>Still, I think it is the perfect dish for after-life-and-death situations. If it's well-cooked :P<p>

**A/N 2**: This is a kind of continuation of the last drabble, _linger_.

* * *

><p><strong>the beginning is the end is the beginning<strong>

Haru has always been faithful in her feelings of trust for Tsuna—as a leader and as a friend, even more so after she has overcome her romantic feelings for him. Even during the darkest moments, Haru has never given up on her belief that everything would turn out all right.  
>(It had been this that had made her stood out during the months when everyone had thought Tsuna was dead: Her grief, but also the way she carried herself, head held high and eyes clear, despite everything.)<p>

Now, after their past selves have returned, and they really can see him, can _finally _see him again, Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Decimo, Juudaime—_Tsuna_—she just can't stop to shine, to glow with every fibre of her being. She laughs until she almost cries, she cheers with the girls and drinks too much sparkling wine and kisses way too many people.

Not that her behaviour is special or anything. All of Vongola seem high on their victory, on their boss being alive.  
>They all run around the base, partying, drunken or at least tipsy. They dance, cry, hug, rejoice life.<p>

—

A few hours later, he has found a quiet nook to be alone for a bit. He sits on the floor against a wall, next to him an untouched plate with Fettucine Alfredo, a bottle of sake and his sword (always within his reach; Yamamoto doesn't think he will ever overcome this habit, not this lifetime). He looks up when he hears the sound of footsteps.  
>Haru's smile is guarded again (more like a woman, less like a girl) but still warm, the prettiest smile he has ever received.<p>

"Haru." He feels like an idiot, sitting there in front of her, with his alcohol and his weariness and his sadness. He tries to say something—but he just doesn't know how, or even what.

She could've laughed at his clumsiness or scolded him for going somewhere alone to get drunk—anything.

Instead, she kneels down in front of him and embraces him.  
>Automatically, Yamamoto returns the gesture. He puts his hands on her back, holds her gently, as her body begins to shake with silent sobs.<p>

_I'm afraid, too_, he wants to say but doesn't.

Haru understands him just the same.

—

Later, they sit next to each other, shoulders and hands (his left, her right) touching, and eat the cold, hearty pasta. They can still hear the party going on—but here, it's quiet and almost, almost beautiful.

"Will you ask me out now, Takeshi-kun?" Haru leans her head against his shoulder and grasps his hand in hers. Her voice is small, but free of any tears. "Because you don't have any excuse for not asking me out anymore." She speaks with finality because she knows that he _does_ have excuses, good ones even—but this is Haru, _almost_-his Haru, and he can't even stand the _thought_ of not being with her, let alone _really _not being with her.

So he grins and proposes: "How about going to the cinema and dinner?"

She doesn't say something for a while, then shoves him and complains: "This was_ so_ unromantic!"

And they start laughing and _they saved the world, goddamit_ and really—this is their beginning.

* * *

><p>I wish reviews could save the world.<p>

But at least, they're a good deed for the day, aren't they? It is actually the same as going to a stranger and saying "You're talented" or "You have such a happy laugh"—so do your good deed of the day, give some stranger a smile and me a review C:

- bells


	12. adore

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Haru; Yamamoto and others in passing

**Word count**: 285

**Rating**: K

**Spoilers**: nope

**Prompt**: 49—_adore_

**A/N**: A friend of mine recently told me that I'm quite the "Schnulzkartoffel" which would directly translate to "cheesy/gooey potato"—and which sounds utterly … awesome xD I reckon, she meant I am a "cheesy/gooey _person_." (At least, that's what I'm hoping ^-^) And yes, she's actually quite right. For some time past, I've really been in fluffy-mode a lot more than ever before. As a result, this drabble is also so fluffy unicorns in buttercup-rainbow-wonderland could sleep on it.  
>So.<br>Read at your own risk :D

* * *

><p><strong>adore<strong>

Haru knows that she is loved. Her parents are as open with their feelings as she is—maybe it's a family trait?—and support her with every important or not so important decision that she has made, even though they may not have agreed with it personally.

Haru knows that she is eccentric and sometimes silly, but that there are people out there who love her despite it and even people who love her _for _it, like Kyouko-chan or Misa-chan.  
>She has her second set of family, <em>Famiglia<em>, Bianchi-san and I-pin-chan and Tsuna-san and Lambo-chan and Mama-san and all the other people who made her belong and never once questioned her for being herself.  
>So of course, Haru knows that she is loved, and cherished, and treasured—she knows it and it fills her with a happiness that reaches even into her fingertips.<p>

Yamamoto Takeshi is a whole other story.

She wouldn't know how to explain it, although she deems herself an eloquent person. Every time she tries, she feels at a loss. How could she really define it?  
>She cannot grasp it.<br>It's just … just the small gestures, the gentle words, the quiet conversations—just the big fireworks, the loud laughs, the serious kisses.

_How could I tell them?_ She thinks and smiles a smile that softens her whole face, unknowingly. _Words will never be enough._

And he takes her hand and lifts it to his mouth to press a soft kiss to her wrist, just where he could feel her pulse if he tried.

* * *

><p>This was quite different for me, because the last sentence was the sentence on which I built the rest of the drabble and I <em>wanted <em>to end it with this sentence, just that my fingers didn't really agree and wouldn't stop tipping another few words, maybe a small end-ish dialogue or something. Still. I stayed strong and let it be.

_Anyways_: Thanks a lot for the reviews and hopefully, you'll review this one (too)? I'd really appreciate it C:

– bells


	13. colour

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 124

**Rating**: K

**Spoilers**: it is so un-spoilered, you could not know _any_ KHR-stuff at all and it would still made sense.

**Prompt**: 26—_colour_

**A/N**: This is definitely not one of my best, I'll admit that. But the prompt gave me close to nil ideas, so I just wrote anything to get it off my list :) At least, I think the drabble is colourful, like imagining soft green meadows, and buttercup yellow and baby blue. Well, maybe that's just me … ^^

Cake goes to reviewers!  
>- bells<p>

* * *

><p><strong>colour<strong>

Haru likes pastel colours best. Of course, there are a few reasons to that (_every_thing Haru does has a reason, though most times you wouldn't notice that—though sometimes even Haru _herself _doesn't): First of, pastel colours really suit her hair and eye colour. They seem to soften her hair colour and harmonise gorgeously with her eye colour. They also are _very_ fashionable right now and although Haru will presumably wear pastel colours long after their times of "chic", it's not wrong to enjoy wearing them while being in, is it?

Last (and definitely not least) there is the reason that she wore a pastel green dress when she first took heart to kiss Yamamoto Takeshi.

(It's not as if she would deny her superstitiousness.)


	14. lost scenes: road

**A/N (at the beginning, today)**: Okay, so this will maybe be a little bit more difficult to explain. A few days ago, inspiration **struck **and I got this idea of a few continued drabbles, all under the name of "lost scene" (which is the fourth prompt). So, as for now, I have five or six drabbles for this "lost scenes" complex and I'm quite excited to post it. It's new, because even though I like to divide my stories in smaller parts, with titles and so on, for this, I tried to make it work as drabbles on their own as well as segments of a whole story.

Well, I hope you'll review so that I know if my experiment is successful or not, eh? :)

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Haru, Yamamoto, Tsuna (others in background)

**Word count**: 550

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scenes_; 34—_roads _

**A/N 2**: Actually, I wanted to post this after I had finished all of it—but to celebrate that I survived a very, very important exam, here is part one :)

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<strong>

_part one—_  
><strong>roads<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Namimori, Japan<br>May 2015_

"So what, you want to go to Italy and learn how to shoot people and bring yourself in mortal danger. That's your plan for after graduation."  
>Yamamoto was usually the most of easy-going people—in fact, in Fuuta's book, he ranked first out of 86,202 Mafia people in this category—but now, here he stood, hands tightly fisted, mouth angry.<br>Haru had more of a hot temper (and liked to demonstrate that with Gokudera-kun), but this now, cold anger in her voice and tightness around her eyes, was nothing any of them had ever experienced.

In a macabre, sick way, this was a sight to behold—and even though they wanted to say something, _anything_, to stop this horrible fight, they all stood in silence, too shocked or too afraid to utter even one single word.

"Yes," Haru said dryly and her eyes betrayed her just for one second when the hurt flashed in them. "It's not that different from what you have planned, now, is it?" She watched him intently, in a kind of clinical way, as she shot: "Apart from the fact that you started a few years earlier and are, of course, much more talented with the killing business, am I right? Natural-born hitman, huh?"  
>Tsuna felt sick to the stomach when he saw Yamamoto gritting his teeth and Haru clenching her fists.<br>"What is _happening_?" Kyouko-chan whispered.  
>Tsuna didn't know.<br>Sure, Yamamoto and Haru had argued this last few weeks far more than before (when they had actually _never_ argued) after he had found out her plans of actively being a part of Vongola but never to this extent.

("All for Vongola.")

Tsuna, of course, had been as or maybe even more against it than Yamamoto, but when Reborn had insisted and his father had insisted and Bianchi, too …  
>He saw both reasonings.<br>Tsuna had long since accepted that Kyouko-chan and Haru were part of the family now, if he wanted that or not, and he saw the drive behind Haru's every word each time she asked him for permission. His stomach still convulsed with nausea each time he thought about the results of his decision.

"This is horrible," Haru now said. She smiled forcedly—it looked more like a grimace than her usually genuine smile—and unclenched her hands. "I don't want to argue with Takeshi-kun like this. I'm … I'm honestly sorry for what I said. It's just … it was in the heat of the moment. Takeshi-kun has to believe that I didn't mean anything I said." Her voice was still stiff and had an awkward quality to it—the words, however, were sincere.

"Anything, huh?" Yamamoto stared at her and Haru stared at him and they both knew that this was a turning point, a bifurcation.

In the end it was Haru who turned her eyes away.

"Yeah." Yamamoto's voice sounded resigned. "That's what I thought." Haru smiled achingly, her eyes fixed on something behind Yamamoto's left shoulder.

She said: "I'm truly sorry."

And he answered: "Me too."

.

Tsuna gave Kyouko-chan's hand a hard squeeze as a single tear ran down her face on behalf of their friends. Reborn turned away, fedora hiding his face. The others stood, silent.

_This isn't supposed to happen._

All of them thought that.

* * *

><p>This is very not-proof-readed. Really. I think I'm going to edit it tomorrow or something, but right now, I'm dead tired, my head aches because of the exam and I haven't yet took my medicine against that stupid hay fever. Awwhatschi/sniff, I'm going to bed now.

And I know that for most of the readers in the USA, it's still around (late) afternoon, but still, it's never wrong to wish someone a good night's rest, is it? :) So, good night!

**PE (yes, I think I'm going to stick with the Post Editum xD)**: It's edited now, but still, if you find any mistakes (plot-wise, spelling, grammar, etc), please tell :)


	15. lost scenes: wire

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Miura Haru, Dokuro Chrome, Hibari Kyouya, and some CEDEF people (Lal Mirch, Sawada Iemitsu, Oregano, one OC called Adriano Montague)

**Word count**: 545

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: This is the second instalment of the "lost scenes" complex. For better understanding, go read chapter 14 first.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_; 54—_wire_

**A/N**: **1)** Please take note of the the time specifications. **2)** What has this drabble got in any way to do with YamaHaru, you ask? Well. Not much. (Heh.) **3)** Reviews are jelly with vanilla sauce. Or bruschetta, yum! Man, I'm looking forward to lunch :D

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<strong>

_part two_**—  
>wire<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Florence, Italy<br>September 2016_

This was—by far—the most enthralling experience Miura Haru had made, _ever_.

"Nervous?" Adriano smiled at her, charm oozing out of every pore.

"No, she's not," Chrome interfered, tightening the grip on her trident in a rather threatening gesture. Hibari casually started to sharpen one of his tonfas. Haru let out a sigh.  
>This was getting ridiculous.<p>

"No, I'm not," she asserted.

"Well, whenever you need … anything, just tell me and I'll do it for you, _cara_." He roamed her body with an appreciating stare and a handsome smile.

"Shut the hell up, boy," Lal Mirch hissed with clenched teeth, her eyes flickering through the room.

"All of you, quiet", Iemitsu ordered. He sounded just the slightest bit tense.

Haru wondered if she should be as nervous as these people were. For all his pretty-boy-ness, for lack of a better term, she could tell by looking in Adriano's face, that he was petrified by the situation. Though the other three members of CEDEF concealed it better, they, too, seemed more tense than usual and definitely more tense than she herself was. Chrome was nervous as well, but that wasn't really because of the mission, and Haru really didn't have the energy to deal with _that other thing_ right now (or ever).

Only Hibari was his usual aloof self. Actually, Haru wondered how he could even stand this mission as there were no people for him to bite to death; rather, this was more of a stealth mission—gone terribly wrong, of course, but still.

Despite that, Haru just didn't have it in her to be afraid; she only felt the thrill, the overwhelming presence of Time, and continued to intently observe Oregano's nimble hands working at dismantling the ticking bomb.

For just one moment, the blonde woman seemed to falter—it felt, however, like an eternity in comparison to her sure actions before.

"Ano … Oregano-san", Haru said before she reminded herself of using all the language courses she had taken and continued in clumsy, but understandable Italian, "I think you should cut the wire on the left."

"You're so intelligent, cara!" Adriano cooed. A second later, Chrome moved the tip of her trident to a rather sensitive area of the young man which caused Hibari to look almost interested and Adriano to turn very pale. And although Chrome _had _improved very much compared to the beginning of their friendship, her social skills were still … moderate, so to speak. So, when she said "Stop flirting with Haru**-**chan or I'll cut your testicles off", Haru still flinched a little, but wasn't really _surprised_ by the conciseness of Chrome's threat.

After a beat of silence, Iemitsu awkwardly raised his voice: "Um … why do you think that, Haru-chan?"

Before Haru could give an explanation, Oregano exclaimed: "No—you're right, Haru! Why didn't I think of that … that's such a beginner's mistake …" She let her sentence fall and, instead, concentrated again on the bomb ticking away. "Piece of cake", she muttered and cut one wire, than two others. She smiled victoriously and stood up, stretched and started putting the equipment away. Lal Mirch said: "So now, let's look for those damn maps and then go back to head quarters. I'm dying to eat something."

* * *

><p>Hah, did you wonder why Chrome and Hibari behaved so strangely?<p>

– Well, _I_ would if I were you and wouldn't know how the story's going to continue ^^


	16. lost scenes: crumble

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Miura Haru, Dokuro Chrome, Sawada Iemitsu, Adriano Montague (OC), others in passing (Lal Mirch, Oregano, Hibari Kyouya

**Word count**: 819

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: This is the third instalment of the "lost scenes" complex. For better understanding, go read chapter 14 and 15 first.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_; 22—_crumble_

**A/N**: The problem/conflict between Haru and Yamamoto that I try to set up (and try to solve in a hopefully interesting way) is kind of subtle, I think. So, apart from the "big fight" in _roads _I never let them talk about it explicitly—they're all just using metaphors or they just talk about it without really talking about it or they just obvserve Haru or Yamamoto. Yeah, that's it. So, I think it could be kind of difficult to grasp what the problem really is. (And maybe that's part of its charm, ahaha?)

Thanks very much for the reviews and alerts and so on, and so forth!

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<strong>

_part two_**—  
>crumble<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Rome, Italy—CEDEF HQ<br>September 2016 _

"I'm really impressed", Oregano said just before she and Lal Mirch left for their flight to Berlin and gave Haru a firm handshake. "Hopefully we will soon meet again—maybe under less life-threatening circumstances?" She winked amiably, then she and Lal Mirch bade farewell to the rest of the group.

"So …" Iemitsu started slowly, "that was … enlightening."

Before he could speak any more, however, he was interrupted by Adriano: "_What was this shit?_" He was red in the face and, though not the best colour on him, still managed to look exceedingly pretty in his fit. "What is _wrong_ with you guys? Is it something _Japanese_? Or is that the _normal _behaviour of Vongola Decimo's Guardians? My _god._"

"Adriano …" Iemitsu said, voice calm. "Do not speak to our guests like this."

"But boss, surely you see that this isn't normal? What did I do? Flirt a little with some Japanese girl, _so what?_ It's not like she's Decimo's girlfriend, right? And I didn't even slept with her or anything!"

It was only thanks to _years_ of interaction with types like Xanxus or Reborn that Iemitsu managed to stay calm. "Adriano, stop."

But the young man was already on a roll: "What _is_ this shit? I mean, _what_?_—_are you," Adriano pointed a rude finger towards Chrome, "gay and have the hots for Haru or what? And _you_!" Now he turned to Hibari and it was almost comical in all its tragedy. "First you don't speak to me _at all_, even though we shared quarters for almost a week, then you corner me and say something about biting me to death—and what is that even supposed to _mean_!—if I don't stay away from her? _I don't get it_!" He huffed and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Explain yourselves!"

"Che." Hibari turned around and moved to leave (after striking Adriano once—more wasn't needed—with his tonfa). "I don't need to tell anything to herbivores." Then he left the room by jumping out the opened window.  
>It was quiet for a few moments. Then, Chrome said, meek and without any hint of irritation: "I was surprised he put up with the group for so long."<p>

And Haru answered, cheerfully smiling: "Me too. Usually, he starts biting people to death when he feels crowded for even a few hours." She took a sip of her fizzy water, then turned to her friend, with a expression that was more exhausted than harried: "Now, I want to thank you for the gesture, Chrome-chan, but I don't think I will need this kind of … protection anymore."

"Boss said …" the Mist Guardian started but was cut off by Haru: "And now, _Haru _says. I know that Tsuna-san means well, I really do, and I understand why he feels like he had to do what he did. But I've been here for almost a year already, and Hibari-san and you have been following me since … As if, I don't know, every second, I'm going to attempt suicide orrun off to marry some random boy."

Chrome started giggling softly. "Kyouko-chan said the same when they decided."

Haru grinned, then continued in a serious manner: "I'm not top priority and I don't think the Vongola have enough resources to leave you and Hibari-san any longer here, Chrome-chan."

The Mist Guardian didn't hesitate but said surely: "If that's fine with you."

"Yes. Actually, I think I'll call Tsuna-san to tell him that you're going back."

"Then … we'll soon meet again."

"Yes. I'll miss you very much, Chrome-chan." Haru pulled the girl into a hug who didn't hesitate to return the gesture. "It's going to be lonely without you."

After they let go of each other, Chrome turned to Iemitsu who had stayed silent throughout the conversation: "Then, I'm off. Thank you for having me. It was a pleasure to work with you. Please take care of Haru-chan."

"Yeah, will do," Iemitsu promised solemnly.

.

After Dokuro Chrome had left the room, all semblance of posture left the remaining girl's body. "What a day," she murmured lowly and looked at her hands in her lap.

Iemitsu couldn't agree more.

"WHAT THE _HELL?_" Adriano, it seemed, had reached his breaking point, after he had awoken from his passing out due to Hibari's tonfa. A big bruise was on the boy's forehead.

Iemitsu pinched the bridge of his nose, then took a deep breath. Adriano was too talented to let him go to waste only because some of Tsuna's friends were a little—eccentric.

"Stop thinking about it," Iemitsu advised. "This is much too complicated for outsiders."

"So, _you_ understand it, huh?" Adriano said sarcastically.

His eyes never left the brown-haired, brown-eyed girl (her face in her hands, her elbows on her tights, her delicate shoulders shaking and crumbling under her heartache, crying—but silent, still silent) when he said: "Not at all."

* * *

><p>Ahh, dear Adriano. How you baffle me with all your italics :)<p> 


	17. lost scenes: project

**Title**: hidden spots

**Characters**: Tsuna, Yamamoto, Vongola brigade (Reborn, Kyouko, Guardians)

**Word count**: 917

**Rating**: K

**Spoilers**:This is the fourth instalment of the "lost scenes" complex. For better understanding, go read chapter 14 and 15 and 16 first.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_; 48—_project_

**A/N**: **1) **The Saitama Seibu Lions are a professional baseball team, Saitama is a city about 30 km west of Tokyo. Also, I don't know why, but I imagine Namimori as a small town close to Tokyo, so maybe that's why I choose the Seibu Lions. Also, they sound likeable :D **2) **I actually don't like this. I don't know why, it's just so … nonsensical, but in a bad way. Well, the show must go on … **3) **Reviews are ice cream, folks! :D

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<strong>

_part four_**—  
>project <strong>

* * *

><p><em>Namimori, Japan<br>October 2016_

"Morning, Tsuna!" Yamamoto grinned as he entered Tsuna's office with his usual bouncing gait.

"Ah … good morning, Yamamoto." Tsuna felt his mouth stretching into an uncomfortable smile. Yamamoto acted as if he didn't notice that and slouched on the armchair across from Tsuna.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah … yes, that's what I wanted." It was too painful to maintain that smile, Tsuna decided, sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, making it even messier than usual. "I … I heard that you got an offer from the Seibu Lions."

Yamamoto's smile didn't falter for one second. "So you found out?" He chuckled a little. While he studied the ceiling, he said: "The offer came in on Monday. And I had to think about it for a bit first before I could make the decision. I didn't want to annoy you with this stuff, so …"

Tsuna smiled a little at his friend's inability of even the easiest lie. The only person worse at it than Yamamoto had to be Ryohei-nii-san who, until two years ago, had still used the sumo-pretence in front of the girls. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm totally in favour of you playing baseball as a pro. I mean … I _know _that in the future we went to, you did it as well. And you love baseball—so … I think you should do it." Tsuna almost chocked on air, so fast did he want to get all out. "This is … a chance for you to leave all this stuff behind you. I'm still not the official head of Vongola—and you don't have to be Vongola Decimo's Rain Guardian if you don't want to be."

Yamamoto suddenly turned serious—like he did more often since, if he was honest with himself**,** Haru had left for Italy.

But Tsuna knew how to cope with his mood swings, if one could call them that.

It wasn't that Yamamoto's personality had changed or anything. He was still cheerful and fun, still as hard-working and easy-going as ever—still Rain, adapting to each situation with visceral ease.

"Squalo said that it wouldn't work out. When we fought against the Funeral Wreaths and Byakuran in the future." Yamamoto closed his eyes. "He said I should decide, then and there, because my divvied-up dedication would be no good." Tsuna waited intently for his friend to continue. "Tsuna, can you answer one question honestly?"

"Yes, of course", Tsuna said, pensive.

"What would you really do if I stepped back as your Guardian?"

He frowned and said his prepared sentence: "I'd be happy for you. I'd find … another Guardian—I think I would ask Basil-kunto fill the position." Then he smiled, a little wry around the eyes. "I _really _would be happy for you. I'd even buy an annual ticket to see as many games as possible. But … I think I'd really be in a fix without you."

In the twinkling of an eye, Yamamoto's whole posture relaxed. "Thanks, Tsuna."

—

"So …" Tsuna opened the crossfire.

"What do you _mean_ you're going to be _both_? This—this isn't even possible! Is it? Reborn-san, is that allowed?" Gokudera-kun stammered.

"This would be cool TO THE EXTREME!" Nii-san hollered.

Kyouko-chan unperturbedly poured hot coffee in each cup, then sat down between himself and Chrome.

Reborn, who had been in a "particular"—aka "bad"—mood the last few … months, looked rather smug as he bit into a cookie.

"Ah," he mumbled after a sip of the hot beverage and put the cup down on the table with a resounding _clink. _"I don't see any reason for objections. If Yamamoto thinks that he can handle the load, then why not." He then turned to the person in question: "Are you really sure that this is the solution you want, Yamamoto?"

"You can still give one thing up if this … _project _is turning out to be too much", Kyouko-chan interfered leniently.

"No," Chrome objected, looking at her fellow Rain Guardian. "This is a matter of pride. He knew that form the start." Then she smiled a smile that made her eye light up. "You'll be the first one to do it that way."

"Tch, once a baseball idiot, always a baseball idiot." But Gokudera-kun didn't look nearly as angry as usual.

"Herbivore," Hibari-san said, only this time it was directed at only Yamamoto and (probably) meant a lot of other things besides _you're an animal that feeds on grass and other plants_, then vanished from the Sawada household like usual.

Kyouko-chan laughed a little behind her hand and stated: "I don't think I'll ever understand Hibari-san."

.

"So, is that really it? You're going to stay a Guardian _and _be a baseball star?" Gokudera-kun still sounded a little doubtful.

"Yeah," Yamamoto grinned. "That's what I'm gonna do."

And Sawada Tsunayoshi, not only as the future Vongola Tenth, but also as a selfish friend, couldn't help but breath out in relief. _Thank goodness._

Then, as he watched Yamamoto and Gokudera-kun start their usual one-sided bickering and Nii-san jumping right on the train, too—he smiled.

In his pocket, Haru's letter creased with every movement he made. (_I'm looking forward to finally meeting Tsuna-san and all the others again! And thank you for offer, I would really appreciate a driver since my parents are out of town when I come back. _

_Until then,  
><em>

xxx  
><em>Haru<em>)

"Stop grinning like an idiot, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn ordered good-naturedly and smacked his head.


	18. lost scenes: we all float on

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru, Sawada Tsunayoshi

**Word count**: 776

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: This is the fifth instalment of the "lost scenes" complex. For better understanding, go read chapter 14 to 17 first.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_; 13—_we all float on_

**A/N**: **1)** This was actually a lot longer. But the "dinner" scene didn't really have a good flow, so I deleted it. **2)** Haneda Airport is the Tokyoite airport for national flights. **3)** I like this prompt. And I kind of like the drabble. Haru's so frustratingly sweet in this one :) **4) **Again, please note the time specifications!

Thanks for the reviews—I'd be happy to read them for this drabble, too C:  
>– bells<p>

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<strong>

_part two_**—  
><strong>**we all float on**

* * *

><p><em>Tokyo, Japan<br>March 2017_

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't mean to bump … into …" Miura Haru stopped mid-sentence on her way out of Haneda Airport and, undeliberately, slackened her grip on the cup of coffee to go which she had saved rather gracefully during the bump. "Um …" She was rendered speechless.

But then again, so was he.

—

It was Tsuna-san's fault, really, it was. She truly loved her friend—but as a peace maker, he left a lot to be desired.

She tried not to sigh or scream (or worst of all, cry) as she watched her pick-up service out of the corner of her eye. That this _was _Tsuna-san's try at making peace, at least, was undeniable. _Or maybe this was just Reborn-chan's idea? It _is_, after all, his kind of idea for a joke … _

She began to twiddle her thumbs (something she hadn't done since Middle School) and forced her eyes to stay on the road.

As he turned the turn indicator on, he said politely and rather nonchalantly: "So, how's life?"  
>"It's …" <em>perfectly alright, wonderful, awesome, awful, terrible …<em> "fine. I'm fine. How about you," Haru faltered for a minute, not sure how to address him, then decided on the polite and unassuming "Yamamoto-kun?"

"Ah … me too."

_This silence is going to kill me_. Haru pressed her fingers into the leather seat. _This is awful_.

.  
>"Haru," Takeshi-kun finally said, furrowing his brow, "I don't want that," he didn't elaborate what <em>that <em>meant; it wasn't something they could forget even if they tried, "to stand between us. I'm sorry for what I said back then. I'm not entitled to decide anything about the way you want to lead your life. And I had _no _right to speak to you like that." He sounded very diplomatic and very sincere and she felt herself getting sick to the stomach (to the heart).

It didn't seem like he wanted to do anything with her anymore, did it?

She lifted the corners of her mouth without really smiling, and said: "I accept your apology."

But she didn't apologise in return or said anything else for the rest of the drive. He was afflicted about that, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She just didn't want everything to end right now, probably.

_Well, I've always been an optimist. _

—

"You wanted to talk to me, Tsuna-san?" Haru's voice echoed oddly against the high ceilings of the hallway. It sounded funny and strange—but maybe that was because she hadn't yet gotten used to the big house the Japanese branch of Vongola now used instead of the hideout.

"Yes, Haru." Tsuna smiled awkwardly. "Actually, I just wondered … how you really feel? You didn't exactly tell us anything during dinner and … I worried about you a lot. We all missed you."  
>Haru grinned wryly: "You're so sweet, Tsuna-san." Then she sat down on the laminate floor and patted the space next to her. He dutifully sat down. She closed her eyes for a bit and said: "You don't have to worry about me all the time. I'm a big girl, now, and I can take care of myself." Then she peered at him. "Also, weren't Chrome-chan and Hibari-san enough of watch dogs?"<p>

"Well …" He scratched his head.

"Really, Tsuna-san." She hummed.

"Haru … you can tell me anything that's on your mind, you know that, right?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you, Tsuna-san." She sounded very unhappy when she said: "Yamamoto-kun and I made up with each other. He apologised when he brought me here."

Tsuna-san stayed silent, but looked at her with something akin to sympathy. She smiled and patted his knee. Then she changed the topic: "I'm sorry for the way I left back then. I didn't mean to upset everyone. I was just …" She swallowed hard. "Is … is everyone fine? I mean, are they _happy_?"

"No … I don't think they are, Haru." Tsuna said, pensive.

"But that doesn't mean they're _unhappy_, right?" Haru's voice sounded almost desperate.

"Ah … it just means that they need something more to be happy."

"I wish I could—but I don't think I will be able to—" she stopped in the middle of the sentence and made a move as if to stand up. "This is my own fault. I was stupid and careless and angry."  
>"But so was he, Haru," Tsuna replied gently.<p>

She sighed heartfelt and slumped down again. "This is stupid. Haru is stupid. _Boys _are stupid."

—

A few metres away, hidden by cartons and boxes, stood Yamamoto Takeshi who couldn't agree more.

* * *

><p>Yeah, sure, Haru. "They", huh? Pfft. Who do you think you're kidding?<p>

Also? This drabble shows how well the all float on, huh? They're like drowning rats ...


	19. lost scenes: landslide

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Matteo di Silvestro (another dear, but mostly unimportant OC), Superbi Squalo, Lussuria (also, Yamamoto Takeshi (and Miura Haru), kind of)

**Word count**: 517

**Rating**: T (well, this _is _Squalo we're talking about ...)

**Spoilers**: This is the sixth instalment of the "lost scenes" complex. For better understanding, go read chapter 14 to 18 first.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_; 55—_landslide_

**A/N**: Squalo, as well as Lussuria (well, actually _all _of Varia) are so very difficult to portray through prose. I just wanted Lussuria to say "Arara~" all the time, and looking all Lussuria…ish but that only works in the manga. Squalo, too.  
>Still, this was fun to write. Without a doubt, the drabble after this is going to be my favourite in the whole "lost scenes" series, but I like this one, too. I hope I portrayed them at least halfway okay, regarding ICness. :)<p>

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<br>**

_part 6—_  
><strong>landslide<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Vicovaro, Italy<br>April 2017 _

Matteo di Silvestro was pretty young for a Varia member, fresh from The Academy and still wet behind the ears, so it was no stunner how his first interlocution ended. Even if he _hadn't _been young and inexperienced, it wouldn't have been surprising—at all—that he ran out of the room with a concussion, a broken clavicle and glass fragments in his hair, bawling like a baby.

Lussuria, the Sun officer, laughed in that flamboyant way of his as the young man retold the story of how he came to get all the injuries while Lussuria used his box peacock to heal his collar bone. "… and that's what I said before SignoreSqualo started to pummel the living daylights outta me."

"Hmm," Lussuria hummed and puckered his lips. "Now, dear Matteo, you mustn't be afraid of Squalo. As far as I can see, you didn't do anything wrong." He laughed a little. "And as angry as Squalo is supposedly right now, I don't think he will remember your face by tomorrow. Don't worry." Then, he made a shooing sound. "Go now, meet the rest of your comrades." More to himself, he said: "And I will speak with Squalo." He frowned. "Boss won't need to know anything about the whole thing, I think …"

—

"Knock, knock," Lussuria trilled as he entered Squalo's room.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YA WANT? HUH?"

"Arara … how do you say it nowadays … what got your panties in a twist?"

"THE HELL! SCUM, I DON'T _WEAR _PANTIES."

"Well …"

"WHEN DID THIS FUCKIN' SCUM OF A BASEBALL IDIOT MAKE THAT SHITTY DECISION VOI!"

"Will you tell me the whole, oops," Lussuria dodged a vase, "story? What did Vongola's Rain Guardian do?"

"HE AIN'T NO FUCKIN' GUARDIAN ANYMORE. SCUM'S A BASEBALL PLAYER NOW, FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

"Arara …" Lussuria chuckled. Then he said, in a suddenly serious and quiet voice: "But I think you're misinformed."  
>"HAHHH? WHAT D'YOU MEAN? VOI!" Squalo said in a much quieter voice.<p>

"As far as my information network goes, Takeshi is going to be both Guardian and professional baseball player. He's going to play the next season with the Seibu Lions." Lussuria dodged another item.

"SHOULD THIS CHEER ME UP? HE'S GONNA GET KILLED IN NO FUCKING TIME." Squalo had almost reached his usual "inside voice" sound level. Then, all at once, he turned a Bloody-Mary-red. Again. He shouted: "AND WHAT THE HELL HE'S IN LOVE WITH SOME BITCH WHO DITCHED HIM FOR THE MAFIA? VOI! I BET THAT'S WHY HE WANTS TO LEAVE VONGOLA."

"Don't be ridiculous, Squalo. I already told you he doesn't want to leave the Mafia."

"AND WHAT ABOUT THAT SKANK, VOI?"

"Well, I guess you mean Haru Miura, but I don't think—"

"Haru Miura, huh?" Squalo's voice was eerily quiet.

_Oh dear._ Lussuria puckered his lips in deep thought as Squalo left the room with another two vases, one in each hand. _Maybe that wasn't the smartest move. _"I think I'll have to contact Reborn soon. Put the girl in a witness protection programme or something. Arara …"

* * *

><p>God, Squalo. You do know that you took my really-cursing-in-English virginity, dontcha?<p> 


	20. lost scenes: fight or flight

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Haru, Tsuna, Tsuna's Guardians (esp. Yamamoto), Kyouko, the world's best tutor, Bianchi, Varia (esp. Squalo)

**Word count**: 1538

**Rating**: T (One-word-reason: Squalo)

**Spoilers**: This is the seventh instalment of the "lost scenes" complex. For better understanding, go read chapter 14 to 18 first.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_; 24—_fight/flight_

**A/N**: I don't even know if that is possible. You know, to say "Are you fighting or flighting" xD Also, I love Reborn in this. And Kyouko. And Bianchi. And SQUALO.

Reviews would be lovely :)  
>– bells<p>

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<strong>

_part seven—_**  
>are you fighting or flighting?<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Namimori, Japan<br>April 2017_

"Here's your tickets, guys." Reborn threw Tsuna, his Guardians, as well as Haru, Kyouko and Bianchi some first class plane tickets to Italy. "We're visiting the Varia in a week. No back talk."

"But Reborn! I have exams starting next week," Tsuna interposed, but before he could say any more, Reborn cocked Leon in gun-shape and emitted such a dark aura of killing intent that every other word got stuck in his throat.

"We're going to Vicovaro where you will conduct the annual Varia Visitation. You're going to be the Boss, Tsuna, so this is your job from now on." And deadly quiet, he added: "Annoy me one more time …"

They all decided after that escapade that it would be for better for everyone involved to just comply with Reborn's idea.

—

_Vicovaro, Italy  
>May 2017 <em>

Their welcome at Varia Head Quarters for the annual inspection was … everything they expected it to be. Tsuna tried to pour oil on troubled waters, but it didn't really help that Gokudera was on constant (scowling) guard, Xanxus threw an aquarium against Tsuna's head the moment they entered the villa, and Belphegor had almost cut off Kyouko's long hair with one of his knives. He had assured them that it hadn't been on purpose—but the longer one thought about that statement, the more one wondered what his target had _then_ been …

"How interesting," Kyouko said sweetly.

"Well, what did you expect?" answered Haru, an unfazed expression on her face.

* * *

><p>"Oi, woman!" Superbi Squalo roared a few days later just as Haru and Kyouko put on their shoes to take a stroll through the village.<p>

Haru spluttered a "Hahi!", half-surprised, half-annoyed, when he took her quite roughly by the arm and pulled her away from Kyouko. She didn't even have any time to protest.  
>"<em>VOI<em>! Tell the fuckers that I'll hold her captive for a while!" Squalo said as he tossed her across his shoulders like one would carry a sack of potatoes. Kyouko could only stare after them in astonishment.

"Squalo-san, LET ME _DOWN_! Hahi!"

—

"You the brat's girl?"

"_H-hahi_? What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Squalo pinched the bridge of his nose as if exasperated with her … stupidity or something. "Are you together with Yamamoto?" He spoke very slowly and emphasised every word.

"Though I don't know how that could be any of _your _concern: No, I'm not," Haru said quietly.

It wasn't _really_ Squalo's fault that he didn't know her well enough to notice the tell-tale marks of a storm brewing right in front of his nose. "VOI! Don't talk trash," Squalo bellowed innocently, waving his sword-hand around and coming dangerously close to Haru's nose. "I know what I know!"

"H-HAHI!"

—

Haru hadn't been _intent _on breaking Squalo's nose.

Nevertheless, it _had, _de facto, happened. Somehow.

Later, when a wobbly-kneed Tsuna, a smirking Reborn and a roaring Xanxus asked how, and also, _why_ she'd done it, she just answered, that it had been, you know, one of those spur-of-the-moment things, all a little blurred around the edges between Squalo's sword, Haru's self-defence-classes kicking in and a lot of "VOI"s and "HAHI"s.

—

Another few days later, the Varia and their Japanese guests could see Squalo wandering around the mansion, hollering one or ten "VOI!"s as if to bait the poor girl—to her certain death, all of Varia whispered—until he found her in the estate's gardens with a book in her lap and some of the Decimo's Guardians as well as the future Head of Vongola himself by her side as bodyguards.

"OI! Yes YOU, fucking idiots!" Squalo addressed them rather politely. "Get the HELL away. I need to speak with the girl VOI."

Neither of the young men were especially keen on leaving people in potential mortal danger—and yes, Haru breaking Squalo's nose _could_ make him a definite mortal danger to her—so there was a little more coaxing needed (threats of cutting some genitals off, a lot of cursing, sword poking heads and crotches and stomachs, some Box Animals, and so on and so forth) but in the end, the three of them left when Haru asked them to.

Well …" Tsuna smiled unsurely, "uh … have fun, right? And, um … take care." Ryohei agreed in his usual extreme fashion. Yamamoto just looked at Haru and Squalo, eyebrows scrunched up, then abruptly turned away and followed his friends.

Haru forced a smile at his reaction and gazed after him as if she wanted to burn holes in his back—until Squalo harrumphed Squalo-style (thus making a lot more noise than necessary). Then, she turned and looked at him, expectantly. "How may I help you, Squalo-san?"

Squalo decided to cut right through the shit: "When did the idiot decide to sign that fucking baseball contract?"

Squalo could _smell_ her fear of him (he wasn't called a shark for nothing) but as she heard the sentence, her posture straightened and her smile became a lot more natural, a lot fiercer. She looked him straight in the eye when she came to a conclusion: "Does Squalo-san really think that _I_ influenced him to do that?"

Maybe Squalo had to give her some credit for coming straight to the point instead of being a pussy about it. Still it was him who placed third, accordingly to Ranking Fuuta, in _Most Straightforward Person In The Mafia_. "Yes."

Haru languidly studied her fingernails as she answered, clipped: "Then you are more of a fool than Yamamoto-kun ever made you out to be."

"I don't think you're in a position to insult me, girl," Squalo growled.

Still, what the girl said next caught him definitely off guard: "And I don't think I'm in a position to tell you anything about Yamamoto-kun." She grinned artificially. "I'm no one to Yamamoto-kun, especially not … in a romantic sense. So—I don't even want to know why you think I could influence him in any way at all, but you're mistaken and I can't help you with it. I'm very sorry, Squalo-san."

—

Even after a lot of cold stares from Reborn and Sasagawa Kyouko, a watermelon against the head from his boss, as well as a whole four-course menu cooked by Poison Scorpion Bianchi, Squalo still swore to God, his nonna _and _his hair that it wasn't _his_ fault that _that fucking girl _had burst out in tears during their conversation.

(Yeah, Squalo just had this way with words.)

* * *

><p>The same night, an incredibly pissed-off Squalo challenged Yamamoto to a duel; pure, simple (demonic) sword combat only—no Flames, no Box Animals, nothing—and of course, Yamamoto being Yamamoto, he accepted with a grin and a "Sure, why not?"<p>

He didn't expect to be beaten the crap out of, not really. Of course, just because he didn't _expect _it, didn't mean that he didn't understand _why_.

Yamamoto swallowed shallowly as he lay on the ground, and stared at the sky, dark blue and dotted with bright starts.

"WHAT ARE YOU, VOI! **HUH? **YOU LITTLE _SHIT, _TELL ME—_**ARE YOU FIGHTING OR FLIGHTING**_? BECAUSE I CAN'T TELL THE FUCKING DIFFRENCE, YOU BASTARD." Squalo kicked him a last time in the stomach, for good measure.

Reborn, who had observed the show (as Yamamoto's tutor, he had said and whacked Tsuna in the head for asking to come along) sighed as Yamamoto squeezed out a scratchy laugh. "D'you have any clues for me, sensei?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP." Squalo tore at his hair. "THIS AIN'T OVER JUST BECAUSE YOU FUCKING _IDIOTS _CAN'T STOP BEING IDIOTS."

Yamamoto sighed: "Don't call Haru an idiot, Squalo."

"WHO SAID THIS IS ABOUT SOME FUCKING BITCH, HUH? THIS IS YOU BASEBALL IDIOT FUCKING UP THE FUCKING EASIEST THING IN THE WORLD. GOD, IF YOU DON'T DISAPPEAR FROM MY VIEW IN TEN SECONDS, _I'M GONNA KILL YOU SO BAD_." Then he huffed and left himself.

**—**

"Did he break any bones?" Reborn asked perfunctorily.

Yamamoto chuckled and slowly sat up. "Two broken ribs. A few deeper cuts. Nothing Leon can't heal. He's really angry at me, isn't he?"

"Ah," Reborn said as he watched the boy intently. "Tsuna told you about the whole ruckus with him and Haru this afternoon." Even though it wasn't a question, Yamamoto nodded. Leon glowed yellow as he started the healing process. Reborn stated: "You know he's right."

"Is he?" He looked doubtful.

Reborn stared at his part-time pupil. He just wanted to punch him a few more times in the half-healed ribs because he was so damn annoying right now—but then again, for Yamamoto, Squalo was probably the best for this kind of lessons. So, instead he said: "Don't act so self-sacrificing, Yamamoto. It doesn't suit you at all."

And Yamamoto laughed in return: "I thought it suited me just fine."

"It doesn't," Reborn deadpanned. "Go now before I hole you like a Swiss cheese."

And he stood up, albeit with a reluctant expression on his face, and went towards the mansion.

**—**

"About time," Reborn murmured and set out to thank Lussuria for his help in pestering the Ninth so long, that he finally left Tsuna and his friends with the task of the annual Varia visitation.


	21. lost scenes: hope is feathery

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Miura Haru, Yamamoto Takeshi

**Word count**: 521

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: This is the eight (and last, yay!) instalment of the "lost scenes" complex. For better understanding, go read chapter 14 to 20 first.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_; 42_—__hope is the thing with feathers_

**A/N**: I have the feeling that my endings are always weak. Like when I write an essay or a discussion—and I kind of think, hey, this makes sense, my line of argumentation is pretty good—and then I have to end it and usually I don't come up with anything better than "all in all I think I said everything I wanted to say and don't have anything witty left in me to give you a great résumé". Yeah, with this drabble, I feel the same.

Well, at least it's a happy ending (ops, spoilers).

Thanks for the reviews and alerts an such during that lost scenes complex. It was fun to write :)

**EDIT**: I hate how you have so little space for chapter titles.

* * *

><p><strong>LOST SCENES<br>**

_part eight—_**  
>hope is the thing with feathers<strong>**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Haru wasn't surprised when someone knocked on her door at three in the morning—for the greater part because she hadn't been sleeping, but also for a lesser part because she had heard even through her opened window Squalo-san's shouts resounding in the gardens where he had challenged Takeshi-kun to a duel.<p>

(Even after all that had happened between them, Haru knew, deep down, that he would never flight.  
>He was a fighter and she had almost never been more happy about that than tonight.)<p>

She raised from her armchair where she had been reading a trashy sci-fi/romance novel to open the door for him, and smiled when he greeted her with a "Yo" and the question if she had some gauze bandages in her first-aid kit.

"Come in," she said and ushered him into her room, "you look horrible, you know? Did you lose against Squalo-san?"

"Yeah," he affirmed, and let her push him gently on the bed, "Squalo was unstoppable. He made a point and showed me that my resolve was worthless." He tried to appear casual but failed grandly.

She felt her heart soar.

"Let me help you with the bandages," she requested softly and took the gauze from his hands.

"It's nothing bad. Leon healed most of it after the fight but my rips are still pretty tender and there was no one at the infirmary and I'm—" he halted as her fingertips touched his rip cage. "Sorry that I woke you."

"You didn't. I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep so I didn't even try."

"Okay. That's … good."

"It is," she agreed, smiling amusedly. "Here, all finished now." Haru examined her bandaging skills for a moment, then handed him his T-shirt.

"Thanks, Haru."

As Haru put the rest of the gauze into the first-aid kit with her back to him, she said: "You're welcome, Takeshi-kun." Instantly, his eyes softened as she said his name. He reached out for her hand—and she let him. His touch was warm and comforting. "Haru …" He didn't say anything more—just looked at her with honest, honest eyes. He didn't _need _to say anything—from the moment he had entered the room, she had noticed the change in attitude.

She smiled watery, knelt down with her hands on his knees, and finally, finally was able to say: "I'm sorry for what I said back then. I didn't mean it. I was so stupid and I know that you don't like that I want to work for the Vongola—but I _have _to, you must understand that, too. I've always wanted to be helpful and I am now and that makes me happy. And—and I'm not sorry that I didn't say sorry earlier because then you would've been gone for good, wouldn't you? You would've distanced yourself even more and been _idiotic_ and _stupid—_but I love you, so I couldn't just give _up_. And I was so afraid, all the time, that you would one day go away once and for all and—"

He interrupted her with a kiss and said: "I'm not running away anymore."

* * *

><p>I have one or three "bonus" chapters that kind of belong to the lost scenes 'verse, but have no real importance for the story. I don't know yet if I should post them directly or if I'll post some single-drabbles first. If you have any preferences, tell me!<br>Also, I really hope that I'll have some time to spare (after the rest of my exams) to revamp this. Like, from scratch. I'm really not happy with it.

– bells


	22. every you, every me

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Miura Haru on Yamamoto Takeshi

**Word count**: 261

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 47—_every you, every me_

**A/N**: This is one of the most beautiful prompts in the whole set, I think. The words on their own are already romantic and poetical and just so beautiful, so I wanted this drabble to be like this as well, just … soft and feather-light and lovely.  
>I hope I do the prompt justice.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>every you, every me<strong>

Sometimes Haru wonders. She wonders if she would be in love with Yamamoto Takeshi in any other parallel universe. She wonders if they'll be together in her next life.

She wonders if she would love him more or less if he were just an ordinary boy—just an ordinary boy with a lot of talent for baseball, and funny friends, and a wonderful father.

Haru is intelligent and rather disillusioned in this world of guns, Flames, and danger (even if she still dreams now and then: of a picture-perfect weddings and princes and fairytale endings) so she knows that all the answers to those questions–… that they're always a _No_. She wouldn't be in love with Yamamoto Takeshi. She wouldn't be together with him. She wouldn't sometimes want to die before him so that she'll never have to be without him.

Their love isn't—_fated_ since the beginning of time or anything that romantic or melodramatic. Their love just _is_.

It just happened—not from one moment to another, but one step at a time, gradually, until she just realised that she blushed around him and smiled around him, that she felt like he was her sun and her moon and her stars, felt like he could be the foundation of her world—and she has never been more glad for anything than for this love she feels for him.

With him, she feels that it is a gift to love.

So it is not _every you, every me_, but rather this her and this him and them fitting perfectly together.


	23. incalculable

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 658

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 53—_incalculable  
><em>  
><strong>AN**: Up till a few seconds ago, I didn't know when Haru's birthday is—but it was yesterday and since this drabble is so … birthday-ish anyway (even if it's not _her _birthday in the drabble), I thought: heck, why not?

Also? I tried really hard. Really, _really _hard. xD

* * *

><p><strong>incalculable<br>**

"Ne, Takeshi-kun …"

Yamamoto makes a small sound but is really too preoccupied to give a proper reply.

"What d'you think about Lucia-san and Dino-san?"

Sometimes, Yamamoto is really astonished by the way Haru's brain works. Like, _deer-in-the-headlights _astonished. He stops dead in the endeavour of undressing his girlfriend and tries to look her in the face—which is kind of difficult since she is rather concerned with nibbling his ear.

He tries to sort his thoughts, to form a coherent sentence, but all he can get out is a flat "_What_."  
>She runs her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, probably to make him move again, and covers his throat with languid, open-mouthed kisses.<br>Yamamoto senses the familiar heat pooling in his stomach, but feels _way_ too irritated to do anything to stop it—or spread it. He breathes deeply and repeats: "What. The. _Hell_."

Haru slides, slowly, maddeningly slowly, a little to the side so that she can look at him properly. She looks at him all cutely and cocks her head a little to the side as if to study him—which she does, for a fairly long time and with a bemused expression on her face.  
>Then, eventually, she flops onto the bed and starts to … <em>giggle<em>. Her entire body shakes with laughter and after a minute or two, she turns on the side, holding her stomach.

"Takeshi-kun," she finally says, like it is an explanation for everything that's happened in the last quarter-hour or something.

He tells himself to not ruin the mood altogether; it _is_, after all,his birthday and they _are _in Tokyo (however _that_ happened; he reckons Reborn must have arranged it somehow, somewhen between the third and sixth bottle of sake, probably) in a fancy and expensive hotel suite with a great view of the city's skyline and they're _alone_, which hasn't happened for quite a long time—what with the newest Mafia-crisis (that thing about the Sachetti Famiglia, one of Vongola's closest allies, and their run-away heir who decided to jilt her fiancé at the altar and fall madly in love with Dino) and their resulting cumulated workload.

Still, he is allowed to feel a trifle annoyed when his girlfriend thinks about Vongola business when all _he _thinks about is getting some birthday sex, isn't he?

"I love you," she says, all honest and mellow—just the way she always says it, so he shouldn't be taken off guard or anything, but still, he _is, _like always, and feels the irritation leave his body as she smiles prettily at him.  
>Then she starts grinning, coyly and a little impatient and a lot amused: "So will you please tell me what I did wrong so we can continue, birthday boy?"<p>

He doesn't think long and simply asks: "Do you _always_ think about this kind of stuff when I try to seduce you?"

Haru looks nonplussed and genuinely baffled. "H-hahi?" she stutters. "Is _that_ what you thought? What you _think_? – I mean … this is ridiculous! Of course …" She stops in the middle of the sentence, narrows her eyes deep in thought.

Then, she undoes her half-sheer blouse—the one that has driven him nearly mad with all its buttons and ribbons and eyelets and _sheerness_—and bends over him, hands on his shoulders.

"I don't _ever_ think about anything else but you when we're together. It's just that looking at the Vongola ring reminded me of Lucia-san's engagement ring and … it just crossed my mind for a second."

Well.

That's an acceptable excuse, isn't it? (At least, for horny birthday boy it is.)

He runs a finger over the thin strap of her bra and pulls her in for a deep kiss. Just a millimetre left between them, he states nonchalantly: "I don't think I will let anything cross your mind tonight anymore. Is that alright with you?"

Haru's hand moves south as she answers: "Perfectly fine."

* * *

><p>Oh, Yamamoto. Oh, Haru.<br>You're just so much fun to write (especially when horny and tipsy and funny), ahaha.

Also, thanks again for all the encouraging reviews for "rip". Without those, I guess I wouldn't _ever_ have considered writing anything resembling lime/lemon ever again C:

– bells


	24. above

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto, Haru

**Word count**: 138

**Rating**: K

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 51—_above _

**A/N**: Reviews equal not having to sneeze about 90 times a day, not having to blow one's nose every damn second, and ... cuddling with unicorns?

* * *

><p><strong>above<strong>

One morning as Haru cleaned their kitchen windows, standing on a small ladder, and Yamamoto ate his breakfast, still half-asleep after coming home from a strenuous mission in London or Kabul or Sydney, she stated rather purposely: "Eventually, you _have _to propose to me, you know?"

In his world (in _their _world, he reminded himself), one second could decide life or death—so in just a little less than this second, Yamamoto regained his composure, swallowed his mouthful of rice and smiled at her.

She knew him too well to say anything about the way his fingers started to drum on the table or how his smile was sheepish, almost apologetic.

Instead, she grinned from her position above.

She was a patient girl if she had to be, and Yamamoto Takeshi, she knew, was perfectly worth the wait.


	25. below

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 456

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: This belongs with prompt 51, _above_, and it makes kind of more sense when you've read both :)

**Prompt**: 52—_below_

**A/N**: Actually, this could have been a proposal.

* * *

><p><strong>below<strong>

Yamamoto Takeshi wasn't one for planning. Most of the time, he didn't _need _any plans. To the dismay of his adversaries (and sometimes for Gokudera Hayato), he was rather gifted at coming up with plans, and so, the strategies he made up in his mind in the in-between of two sword strokes or two smiles was enough to keep him healthy and alive—in the majority of cases, that is.

Not proposing to Haru though, Yamamoto realised, was a lot harder than any Mafia business.  
>.<p>

How could he delay the inevitable for another day, week, month—year? How could he look at her when she smiled at him in her peach red bridesmaid's dress and asked him to dance with her? How could he view the jewellery displays and not buy her an engagement ring?  
>How could he look at her hands and stand the bareness of them?<p>

He still did it, though—because Haru would always come first, Haru and her safety and her _life_.

_Eventually, you _have _to propose to me, you know?_

He loved her so much.

"Ne, Takeshi-kun, why are you sitting there all gloomy?" Haru's head appeared in the doorway. He tried to put her off with a smile but, even to himself, it felt half-hearted and unconvincing. Haru frowned a little in response and entered the room. She made a funny sound when she sat down next to him on their bed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Loving you could never hurt me, Takeshi-kun," she said after a while, quietly. He wanted to object, to yell at her because she didn't seem to realise the danger she was in, each and every day, just because he was selfish and let her—and he wanted to kiss her and thank her because he knew she would never let him go.

She moved away a little to look at him more closely. Then she kissed him with soft lips and said: "I changed my mind. We don't need to marry if you don't want to."

He sighed and breathed out in relief and defeat. "You know I want to."

"Yes," she breathed. "I do."

"I'm sorry, Haru."

"I love you more than I love the idea of being married, Takeshi-kun." She grinned. "But still, someday … when Tsuna-san's Tenth Generation of Vongola has made the Mafia world a safer place to be … I'd like to be call you my husband—and be called your wife. Is that okay?"

He believed in her vision of future.

(One day, he'd go down on one knee and ask her.)

And so he kissed her and didn't let go of her and answered her question in everything but the words. Haru nodded, smiling, and pressed herself even closer to him.

* * *

><p>Reviews would be very appreciated C:<p> 


	26. metaphor

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 318

**Rating**: K

**Spoilers**: None

**Prompt**: 2—_metaphor_

**A/N**: My first try at free-versing. I'm not really satisfied with it—but well. Poetry is just not my forte, I guess. Also, why haven't we got a strike-out function on ? :D

* * *

><p><strong>metaphor<strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

_(metaphorically speaking)_

she is his **gold pot **at the end of th w,

she is the handles for his chest

**(**because honestly? what's worse than a treasure chest **without **handles?**)**,

she is the spring meadow that shines _glossily _after a rainfall,

and she is the of running a home run.

**Metaphorically speaking**, she is his _H_eart and his _S_oul and the thing that holds him _together _and pulls her _ t_.

.

_(metaphorically speaking)_

he is ten **Haru-Appreciation-Days** consecutively,

he is blowing th on her _birthday _cake,

he is the that guides her through dark days, brilliant nights, foggy afternoons

he is the joy of feeling ** y** and and ** l**

and he is the shock (**!**) of cold water against her skin when _jumping _into dark waters.

**Metaphorically speaking**, he is her _H_eart and her _S_oul and the thing that holds her _together _and pulls her _ t_.

—

—

—

But then again, neither she nor he are people who like to speak in ((metaphors)) so

**he **says

_I love you_

(quiet, and simple, and beautiful)

and **she **says

_I love you, too_

—

**and they mean so much other things with it **

(_I want to spend the rest my life with you, I want to love you and you to love me, I want to be your closest confidant, hey let's marry, I cherish your heart, never forget my feelings for you_)

**but why say it?**

—

**After all,**

**love is not in th but in the **

** s.**

* * *

><p>Gonna bring up big guns, eh? :D<p>

**Review, please ~!  
><strong>

**.**  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>.<strong>  
><strong>V<strong>

****Edit: I truly don't know why ff-net doesn't want to work. This doesn't even make sense like that. Sighl.


	27. lost scenes, extra: the stories we tell

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru, OCs (Adriano Montague, Maria Giaudrone)

**Word count**: 574

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: D'you still remember that cockalorum (awhh, shiny new word :D) called Adriano from _lost scenes, part 2—wire_?  
>Yeah, he came back.<p>

**Prompt**: 61—_stories_

**A/N 1**: This can be read as a bonus chapter connected with the _lost scenes _complex (maybe one year or so after the last drabble?) or as a stand-alone.

**A/N 2**: I hold the firm belief that every character in every story should have some, you know, off-screen friends. Like "Oh, I just met this old friend/my tennis partner/my cousin/whoever while you as the reader weren't there to see me interacting with them" and here, I'm pulling Haru's Italian off-screen-friends on-screen. Usually, that could easily lead to Mary-Sue-ness and Marty-Stu-ness and OOCness and a lot of other -nesses—I just hope that they don't seem like this (even though I only now realised that I bestowed good looks upon both of them xD).

* * *

><p><strong>the stories we tell<strong>

"Then … goodbye," the young man leaned a little down to give the brunette a sweet kiss, "I'll call you when I'm back in Namimori, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled at him and tugged his dress shirt into place. "Be careful, will you?"

"When am I not? Yeesh…" He smiled wryly and laughed when she cuffed him lightly on his still sore shoulder. "No really. I'll be on my guard, don't worry." His eyes softened as he took a strand of hair between his thumb and index finger. "I love you."

"I love you too."

She waved him goodbye—and only as she heard a female voice behind her, she turned around.

"You guys are _so _sweet," Maria Giaudrone cooed from her armchair where she had watched the whole farewell-scene. "And I didn't even understand one single world from what you said, it still sounded amazingly romantic!"

"H-hahi! Maria-san," Haru said before she could remember to not use honorifics here in Italy. She smiled sheepishly to cover up the blunder.

"Don't be so shy, Haru-_chan_," she smiled languidly and her expressive green eyes shimmered, and Haru felt herself almost being envious of the gorgeousness the young woman in front of her possessed—if it weren't for the fact that this beauty had become one of her closest friends and allies here in Milano, and was the perfect showcase of _Don't judge a book by its—incredibly marvellous—cover_.

"Yeah, you weren't so stuffy a moment ago with your _boy toy_," added her other close friend.

"Adriano-san …" Haru sighed, while at the same time Maria chided: "Yeah, boy toy my foot! You're just _jealous_ that Takeshi Yamamoto is not only stunningly sexy, but also one of our boss's closest confidants which puts him above all of us, position-wise."

Before the young man (who was prone to sulking) could open his mouth to start what would be another long quarrel in a line of equally long quarrels, Haru assured him: "You're attractive as well, Adriano."  
>"But not as attractive as him, eh?"<p>

Maria snorted behind a dainty hand and remarked: "You're lucky that Takeshi Yamamoto is not the jealous type. He'd pounce on you every change he'd get, considering your flirting manners." Then she turned to her friend again, ignoring how Adriano first turned very pale, then greenish, then an angry red. "Still, it's _so cool_ that we can finally see you two together."

"Hahi? But why?"

"Whenever you tell us all the stories about Vongola Decimo and his Guardians, all the adventures and love stories and such—it just sounds so _interesting _and _exciting_. And seeing them live and—interacting with you is so much fun!"

Adriano waved her statement aside: "No, no, that's just you."

"It is _not!_" Maria stepped on his foot, hard. "Stop ridiculing me always, you bully!"

Haru smiled sunnily at their antics.

.

Italy was so different to Japan, so it was hardly surprising that she had talked about Namimori and her friends who commuted between the two countries rather than living in Italy as she had been doing for the last year—and maybe reminiscing had been her way of curing her homesickness.

But still, with Takeshi-kun's smile still fresh in her memory and with two dear friends squabbling in a language she had almost no difficulties with anymore—well, apart from the honorifics and "Hahi"s and her horrible accent—she really didn't think she had any reason to complain.

Life was good.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 3**: So I actually didn't want to say anything because I'm non-offensive like that—but I'm kind of confused as to why no one has reviewed for the last … 4 or so chapters. Because I don't think the drabbles have become worse regarding quality or anything. Even if you don't like, please tell my why so that I can improve :)

**Or in a nutshell:** Reviews would be awesome!

Love,  
>bells<p> 


	28. lost scenes, extra: opposite

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Dokuro Chrome, Bianchi, Adriano Montague, others in passing

**Word count**: 966

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: Bonus chapter to my _lost scenes_ complex, set chronologically prior to the last chapter (CH 27, stories), but is more fun to read AFTER that chapter. I don't know why, I just think that the other way 'round would make the other thing less fun.

**Prompt**: 7—_opposite _

**A/N**: I actually was a little bit afraid that Adriano wouldn't survive this chapter. Also? Yamamoto, I fear you. I seriously do.

* * *

><p><strong>opposite<br>**

This situation, Adriano Montague decided, couldn't get any more uncomfortable.

Here he was, sitting between the boyfriend of the girl he thought he probably had a crush on and a close friend of the girl who blatantly disliked him, while trying to swallow sulphury pasta as the cook—a comely young woman with gorgeous jade green eyes and long glossy hair—kept her eyes glued on him. Which would usually make him quite happy. (If only that woman weren't infamous "Poison Scorpion Bianchi" and didn't emit quite as much killing intent …)

"Ahh …" Takeshi Yamamoto stretched his lanky arms over his head and smiled contently. "Thanks for the great food, Bianchi!"

The empty plate smoked where remnants of the sauce lay.

"No problem," Poison Scorpion Bianchi said friendly but didn't take her eyes from him.

"It was delicious," that Chrome girl added with her meek voice. "What did you use for seasoning, Bianchi-san?"

"Oh, just this and that. A little bit of fresh thyme and lemon zest."

Adriano felt himself starting to sweat under the close scrutiny of three pairs of eyes as he moved the deadly pasta from one side of the plate to the other.

Yamamoto straightened a little bit in his chair, then said: "Hey, Dokuro, Bianchi—Sasagawa and Tsuna wanted to talk with you about Haru's birthday party. I think I saw them in the library half an hour ago. Haru's still shopping with the kid and that blonde friend of hers, so that'd be the perfect chance to plan, right?"

Poison Bianchi seemed to contemplate for a second, then looked between Yamamoto and him, and started to grin: "Yes, I think you're right, Takeshi. Come, Chrome-chan, let's go."

That Chrome girl nodded, stood up, and followed the Poison Scorpion Bianchi out of the room. At the door, she turned around one more time and addressed Yamamoto: "Maybe it would be better to go to the gardens?"

Yamamoto grinned winsomely (well, he had to stay realistic and that guy's damn smile _was _stupidly charming) and shook his head. "I don't think that's necessary, but thanks for the suggestion."

They closed the door after them with a resounding squeak.

—

Adriano was a lot, but a coward he was not. How did the saying go? Offence is the best defence?

So he did exactly that:

"Opposites attract." Yamamoto looked at him expectantly, so he continued: "That's _the _oldest rule in the Book of Love. And I mean, I know that the best, because, come on, I'm Italian, it's in my blood. Anyways, opposites attract and if Haru and I aren't total opposites then I don't know what opposites are. So, you know who the winner is gonna be. You won't be able to do anything—god, _I _won't have to do anything, just stay at her side and be her opposite until she realises how right I am for her."

Yamamoto scratched his head idiotically and continued smiling.

Did he think smiling would help him out of this situation?

"You and her … I swear, you two are only together because everyone around her wants her to. They're all like, big fat _YamaHaru _fangirls—I don't even know why. But ever since I met Haru, _seven people _have threatened to kill me in various ways if I even _think _about touching Haru: that Chrome girl, Poison Scorpion Bianchi, Decimo, her father, your tonfa guy—and some Hana-girl from Japan and _Squalo from the Varia _left angry voice mail on my mobile! What is this, why do they all think that you and her should be together? I mean, I _really_ don't see it! Is this—is she like some prize for you because you're such a great Guardian to the Famiglia that you get the girl you want even though she maybe doesn't want you as much as you do, though she may not have noticed it with all the peer pressure?"

The young man opposite him stared at him in what Adriano guessed was remorse or maybe an epiphany.

Then, he started laughing.

"Oh my god, you are _crazy_," Adriano stated. "Has the whole damn Japanese Vongola branch gone mad?"

Yamamoto wiped a tear away. "God, Haru didn't tell me you're such a conceited, arrogant guy." He chuckled. "Man, that surprised me."

"You don't take me serious, huh? Fine, you don't have to. We'll see who's right in this."

"Okay, you little shit." Suddenly he sounded completely serious, almost business-like. "You can be happy that you didn't tell this nonsense to anyone else—because I can assure you, you would've been more times dead than you can count if anyone else would've heard.  
>Haru likes you for whatever reason and I trust her judgement, so maybe there is something underneath all that rubbish that I can't see."<p>

Adriano gulped.

"I wouldn't be angry because you like Haru—that's only natural. But tell you what: I won't accept you insulting my girlfriend. You know that she isn't stupid, so don't ridicule her by saying all these things.  
>And if you seriously like her—then go ahead, tell her." He smiled and there was just a hint of steel in his gaze. "Just don't expect me to let her go without a fight."<p>

Adriano opened his mouth to say something, _anything_, but nothing came out, and after a few silent moments, Yamamoto stood up from his chair and walked towards the door. With one hand on the door handle and his back to him, he said: "Don't think that I'm not the protective type just because I'm not as open about it as others.  
>Don't touch her. Don't hurt her. Clear?"<p>

And with that, he left the room.

(And was it really possible that he had now officially reached the eight-people-mark of people who had threatened to kill him?

Yeah, it was.)

* * *

><p>Reviews equal joy.<p> 


	29. needle

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Sawada Tsunayoshi, Miura Haru, Reborn

**Word count**: 572

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: It's settled somewhere in nowhere, between maybe the Varia arc and the Curse of the Rainbow arc (which is kind of _everything_ of the manga)—but really, it's not spoiler-ish, so … :)

**Prompt**: 28—_needle _

**A/N**: Badass!Haru, I worship you.

* * *

><p><strong>needle<strong>

Sawada Tsunayoshi doesn't know _why_, but it seems he is a Holy Magnet of All Kind of Monsters. Because if he were not—how could he _possibly_ assemble so many friggin' powerhouses, monsters, etcetera? There is no logical reason apart from the theory (from yours truly, Gokudera Hayato) about Vongola Blood smelling somehow different than 'common' blood and therefore genetically attracting crazy people, powerful people or people who really couldn't be called people anymore ( … cow-boy Lambo. Shitt-P. Fancy any more examples?).

For most part, Reborn encourages that because, come on, monsters are always good, ain't that right?

So Tsuna is happy that he at least has a few people in his life that are, if maybe a little eccentric, absolutely normal, like his mother or Kyouko-chan, who may be a little too accepting of the whole Mafia business, but are still, at the core of their being, very _normal_.

But somehow, while his life grew more dangerous and complicated and _messy_, he sadly had to revoke this assessment. Because, well, hearing that dear Kaa-san once clobbered a hundred enemy men with only two frying pans and an eggbeater, or seeing sweet Kyouko-chan emasculating the poor man of one rival Famiglia who thought it would be a good idea to kidnap her—there really is no one who can say that they are … _normal._

.

Miura Haru is another story, because Tsuna has always thought of her walking the fine line between eccentric girl and crazy madwoman. But well—he has never regarded her as a Monster.

Not before the day she pulls out her sewing kit.

.

It is a rather uneventful day, at least for a Monster Magnet like himself—before he sits down and his trousers make this _ripping _sound that could've brought him to tears year ago. After all the Dying Will bullets, however, he has lost nearly all shame of running around school in only his underwear.

Coincidentally, Haru has decided to visit them during lunch today and when she comes to the roof where they usually eat (only this time, she is alone because Yamamoto has baseball practice, his other friends are in detention and Kyouko**-**chan is tutoring a girl in History) she immediately sees his _… _problem, like she has X-ray vision.

She grins ferociously, says in a no-nonsense voice, "Take your trousers off, Tsuna-san," and takes out her sewing kit. She pulls out a blinking, glittering, _sharp _needle, and starts _twiddling _it in fast, fluid movements. Without even sparing it a glance, she pulls a dark brown thread through the pin head. "Hurry, Tsuna-san, you've only five minutes left of your break."

Wordlessly he gives her his pants.

And then, she turns into a monster.

A Batshit Crazy Sewing Monster.

.

After, she says, seemingly dissatisfied: "Well, it's okay, provisional."  
>And she smiles at his trembling form and hands him the trousers back.<br>Then Reborn pops up in one of his ridiculous costumes (the ones that mean Reborn has invented another way to "train" his pupil) and smiles that smile that is supposed to look innocent. (Surprise? It doesn't work. At all.) Tsuna's hyper intuition kicks in, like red flags or warning bells or—warning nuclear bombs.

"Nice needlework, Haru," Reborn compliments and Haru blushes at the compliment.

"Thanks, Reborn-chan!"

"Ah." Reborn grins. "Hey, Haru, do you remember Belphegor from the Varia and Doctor Shamal?"

And Tsuna can't do anything but faint. Like a real boss.

* * *

><p>Haru using needles as weapons? Wouldn't that be SO awesome? I usually fancy her as really good with guns and stuff, but I must admit, I like the needle thing, too :D Amano needs some more mid-range fighters, anyway.<p>

And then she'd be tutored by the knife/wire user Belphegor and the one who taught Gokudera to aim really well. And _then_, she'd start write down some of Bianchi's recipes. And _then_, she'd be … dunno, Toxic Needle Haru? Doesn't that sound like a name Amano Akira would've thought of? :D

Also, thanks a lot for the (already written, and hopefully upcoming) reviews :D


	30. between the world and us

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 290

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 29—_locks_

**A/N: **I always wonder, in all the stories, "So now, after all that happy-ending-kitschy-fluffy stuff, what will happen when they break-up? Because, of course, they won't stay together forever, this ain't no fairy tale." Of course, most of the times, I don't want to imagine that, because when I read a story, I _like _the main pair and I _want _them to be together. But well. Call it a flash of inspiration.

Again, thanks to all of you for the lovely reviews—they mean really a lot to me!

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>between the world and us<br>**_there is a locked door_**  
><strong>

Haru heard Yamamoto chuckle in the darkness as the door clicked shut behind them. "This is awkward, huh?" He sounded tired and a little as if he had caught a cold.

Well, she wouldn't know anything about his health condition, not anymore.

Haru felt clumsy and nervous, and as was usual with her during such occasions, she started babbling. "What did Lambo-chan and I-pin-chan _think_? Really, they'll just have to accept that doing stupid things and being childish won't change anything! Do they seriously think we'll get together again just because they lock us in a broom closet?"

"Hah, yeah, wouldn't happen in this lifetime." Only as the boy said that, did she truly realise the meaning of the words she had said off the top of her head.

She felt terrible.

"Don't be angry with the kids," he said finally, musing, "they didn't mean any harm."

"I know." She tried to make out his face, but of course the light switch had to be outside the room (broom closet), and the room (_broom closet_) was windowless. It was pitch-black dark.

"This is all my fault, anyway."

"No, it isn't! I mean—it was me who wanted us to keep our distance after our break-up."

"And it was my fault that we broke up." If he had been any other boy, she would've thought he just wanted to win a competition—but he was still _Takeshi-kun_, the end of their relationship hadn't changed that, and so she knew the tone in his voice was resigned, not complacent.

And in the darkness surrounding them, in the quiet, it was easy to admit: "I miss you."

"Yeah," he breathed out, "I miss you too."

* * *

><p>The thought of them broken up (which is, in my opinion, a whole lot different from not being together), makes me queasy ...<p>

And just now, I realised that this is the first time I wrote something really unhappy for them as a couple which kind of makes me, well, a liar in the summary xD Also, I wouldn't have thought I would come so far with this, to be honest xD I'm usually the worst of updaters. And now, lookie here. Shiny 30th (!) chapter :D


	31. seize the day

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 532

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 6—_seize the day_

**A/N**: I don't know, I just love this so much.  
>Also, thanks <em>so <em>much for the reviews, I'm very glad about each and every one of them :D

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>seize the day <strong>

"Haru?"

She murmured something unintelligible into her pillow, rolled onto her stomach and pulled at their blankets.

He prodded her again, grinning. "C'mon Haru**, **I've got a question."

"Out of service. Leave a message after the beep. Haru'll call you back later."

He laughed, "That doesn't even make sense."

"Don't care. 'm tired. Go ask Gokudera-san. Or the internet."

"But this is a specific question only you can answer." He laid a heavy hand on her spine, fingertips moving slowly up and down, sometimes over the fabric of her camisole, sometimes under.

She groaned a little, frustrated, and annoyed, and not so tired anymore, and so much in love with this man.

"You're so mean, Takeshi-kun," Haru complained. Then she turned on the side, snuggling closer to him. Her eyes were still closed. "How's the weather?"

"It's pouring down," he answered, laconic.

She sighed against his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the spot. "It felt like a sunny day, somehow." She smiled, still half-asleep, and added quaintly, "Well, at least I have my own personal sun here."

He kissed the crown of her head. "Wouldn't that be Ryohei?"

This was a discussion as old as the role of Guardian.

"Just because you're attributed to something as a Vongola Guardian does not mean that your personality has only this one facet. I mean, just compare Xanxus-san and Tsuna-san or Ryohei-san and Reborn-chan. And what about—" Before she could really go into rant-mode, he shushed her with a slow but thorough kiss, smiling: "I really don't care, Haru."

She blushed (from the kiss, from the words, or maybe from both) and conceded: "Sorry, Takeshi-kun. It's just that Gokudera-san won't ever see my point and—"

He laughed at that and she cuffed him. "Imagine a world where you and Gokudera live peacefully next to each other."

"Hahi," she sighed wistfully, "that would be what you call an utopia, I guess."

Then, finally, she opened her eyes to the morning and the world—and her beloved close to her.

And also, the alarm clock.

.

"You can be happy I love you so much," she exclaimed with a moan.

The clock blinked an unforgiving _05:37 AM_.

He coughed to suppress a laughter but that only made her stare harder at him (with sleepy eyes, but still, hell hath no fury like a woman deprived of her beauty sleep).

"_So_, Yamamoto Takeshi. What's that urgent question you had? And do take in consideration that this has been the first morning for almost two years on which both of us could have slept in. I want a good question now, or heads will roll." She corroborated her statement with a cheeky kiss.

.

He grinned, tugged at her hand to make her lie down again, then pulled her close. She complied, curious.

"Will you marry me?"

And then, she grinned too, like the cat that got the cream, _and _the canary, _and _the engagement ring: "Well, that's a good enough question, Takeshi-kun." And started to attack him with kisses and squeals and all the other beautiful things only a girl being asked to marry by the love of her life can do properly.

* * *

><p>Is this what you English-speaking people call pillow talk? :D<p> 


	32. lost scenes, extra: missing time

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 1093

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: This is a part of the lost scenes complex, set after its last chapter (CH 21—hope is the thing with feathers) and has nothing to do with the other extras.

**Prompt**: 4—_lost scene_, 17—_missing time _

**A/N**: Nothing much to say here, apart from HIGH SCHOOL IS FINISHED. FOREVER. YAY! This is pretty much not proof-read because … I can xD

* * *

><p><strong>missing time<strong>

If it hadn't been for their stupid (important, okay, Haru admitted that it had been very important for their relationship, in the long run) fight back then, they would've already had sex.

_Right now_, Haru thought, irritated and only a little sexually frustrated (okay, a _lot_), as she walked towards Yamamoto's workroom in the Vongola HQ where he presumably hid from her. _We would have sex right now. In some old storage room or in the kitchen or in my bed or in his bed … _

Haru had the serious urge to facepalm. Or to jump her stupid boyfriend's bones.

This was getting ridiculous.

Haru huffed. These first months of probing and and trying and walking on eggshells—they had been necessary, Haru _knew _that. Even after they had officially made up with each other, and _long_ after they had come clear in their feelings for each other—things still had been fresh, and a little bit raw. Of course they hadn't jumped into the next best bed (or old storage room or kitchen or …) but now, after everyone had stopped looking at the two of them like their being together was some serious miracle sent by Kami-sama, after all the stares had dwindled to a minimum, and now, that the whole drama with the Yakuza here in Japan had been stopped—she didn't see any reason _at all_ why Takeshi-kun still waited.

It was … just such a waste of time!

And it wasn't like Takeshi-kun seemed averse. Maybe he thought she didn't notice—but she _did; _she noticed the way the muscles in his back tensed—not just with arousal but with the effort to stop whenever they came too close to sleeping together;she _noticed _how he always clenched his teeth before he muttered something utterly _moronic_ like "Let's stop, Haru" and vanished before she could do more than stare, left with her trousers half-undone or her top thrown in the corner of whatever room it was they messed aroundlike mad. He wasn't even gracious enough to give her enough time before fleeing to shout a "But _why should we_?" or to throw a shoe at his head.

Now, it was time to get blunt. Like, '_so blunt even my stupid boyfriend won't be able to act as if __he didn't know what I want_' blunt.

But just as her hand was on the handle of the door to the workroom—the door was opened on the other side, and in a tumble of "Hahi!", four feet, two bodies and the momentum of the opening door, Haru collided hard with Yamamoto. Before she really caught on what happened right there, she heard him say "What are you doing here, Haru?", before he pulled her back into the room with him and closed the door by pushing her against it. She saw a lopsided, if not a little strained smile on his face, before he leaned down to kiss her, fiercely and entirely tempting. She couldn't help but moan a little, opening her mouth, deepening the kiss, and pull him closer by putting one hand at the back of his head, the other on his shoulder.

After a rather nice amount of snogging, Takeshi-kun readjusted his position a little so that he could face her. He breathed heavily. She felt light-headed, as if she washelium-filled and would float aboveground if it weren't for his caressing hands on her waist, grounding her. His grin was goofy when he said deliciously low: "I didn't say hi, did I?" Then, he put his mouth on her collar bone, nipping and sucking gently, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

Haru swallowed once, twice and pondered seriously why she felt like she was supposed to be angry with him while she ran her finger through his hair. "Oh!" she exclaimed when she remembered (really, she had to be _deprived_) and pushed him away. His head bumped against her jaw. "Ow," he muttered but the stare he shot her was more of a _What the hell is your problem_, rather than_ That really surprised me, ow_.

"What?" After he didn't touch her anymore, she felt a lot better. (No, she felt worse, but _whatever_. There was an argument to be won.) "Don't give me that look, Takeshi-kun! Who do you think you are? Stop—stop starting things you won't end anyways. Or rather … just stop with the stopping, you idiot! I was really pissed when I came here. I had a _plan_. You were _going _to tell me why the hell you don't seem to have the guts to sleep with me—and then I was supposed to give you the best blow job in the history of blow jobs and _then _make you make love to me because it doesn't seem like you'll ever do that on your own! And _you_—you have to be so stupidly attracting, and … and _kissing _me and I _swear_, if you're going to get me hot and bothered and then leave again—I'll hate you forever! And I'll _never _sleep with you—even though that won't bother you that much, hahi!"

For a moment, he just looked at her, silently.

Then.

"I want to have sex with you," he said plainly.

She almost cried out in frustration. "And why didn't you?"

"I'm sorry." He stepped closer again, cradled her face in both hands. "I guess … I was afraid I'd screw up again."

She sighed: "Takeshi-kun's such an idiot, sometimes."

"I love you though, if that's any consolation," he said jokingly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She laughed a little. "So … sex, huh?" He kissed her temple, then her nose, the corner of her mouth. "Still up for it?" She felt one of his hands at the dip of her waist, the other high on her thigh.

"Wait!" She felt him sigh against her neck. "Just a second. Then I'm all for it." He pinched her bottom in response: "Go ahead."

"What were you doing when you opened the door? You looked very rattled."

"Actually," he grinned sheepishly, "I was on my way to you. Because I was—_am—_pretty much on the verge of combustion."

"Hahi!" Haru uttered. "So all my ranting and raving was totally in vain?"

"Yeah?" He sounded unsure whether this was the right answer.

"Well …" Haru looked at him with furrowed brows. Then she shrugged, brushing the whole issue off and putting two fingers through his belt loops to pull him closer, "then let's make up for all the missing time, ne?"

–

And they did exactly that.

* * *

><p>Thanks for the amazing feedback those last chapters—I'd love to see it continued that way. Oh, and here's a fun fact: The type of High School I was in is actually called "Gymnasium". Like … the gym. But it all derives from the Ancient Greek γυμνάσιον, so … it's not just a gym :D Ahh, what bullshit am I telling? xD<p> 


	33. degrees

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 884

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 5—_degrees_

**A/N 1**: This feels like … a very long story in very few words. I don't know. As if I've witnessed a major part of their life. I haven't had this kind of feeling for a long time—it's kind of nice.

Reviews are Rübli muffins (Rübli, btw, is the Swiss word for carrot, and Rübli muffins are the _most _delicious muffins ever) and a thousand Thank yous :)

**A/N 2:** Sorry for the delay in updating—last week was just a load of stress. First the whole graduating stuff and exam results, then the last two days a cousin's wedding in another city. And it's not as if this week is going to be any better. Okay, I'm going to stop complaining now.  
>Have fun reading!<p>

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>degrees<strong>

_— seeing —  
><em>

If people would ask her, she would tell them that, of course, she had _seen _him—from the very beginning even. It's not like he is prone to fading into background or something. He was just this … you know, tall boy—baseball bat, sparkling smile, black hair and brown eyes included.

(His description of her, by the way, these first years was as follows: "Oh, yeah, that funny cosplaying girl? Her Namehage costume is great, right?")

_— noticing —  
><em>

Noticing, though, came a lot later. Like, _years too late, man, I'm happy (and relieved) you two crazy kids have found each other_ later.

Reasons for that are plenty (because Haru's vision consisted of happy ever afters, fairy tales and _Tsuna-san, Tsuna-san, Tsuna-san_, or because Yamamoto those first Mafia-crazed years saw only baseball, Shigure Kintoki, and definitely no girls) but be that as it may, at Sawada Tsunayoshi's eighteenth birthday party Yamamoto finds himself next to Miura Haru, and she is incredibly funny and entertaining and lovely.  
>She tells him about her apprenticeship with Reborn, offers him <em>Rübli <em>muffins (a recipe from her aunt who lives in Switzerland, she tells him proudly) and promises to come back after she beats Ryohei-san's and Tsuna-san's poor behinds in a mean game of poker. (It maybe at least a little bit? helps that her brown eyes have just become this much browner or that her hair seems softer or that every time she laughs he wants to touch her lower lip a little more.)**  
><strong>

"He grabbed my umbrella when it rained, once, and forced me to run through half the town with him just because he thinks everyone should let it rain and not care at all at least once," Haru would explain if asked. "Oh, and have you seen him last week without his shirt …?"

_—_ _liking _—_  
><em>

And then one day, Yamamoto Takeshi suddenly knows that Haru's favourite cake is the sponge cake topped with strawberries and cream from her favourite bakery—a classic, she says when he teases her about predictability and unoriginality—and that, even though she doesn't really like coconut, her favourite body gel is coconut-scented (he also knows that it doesn't smell like coconut _at all_) and that she cries as much as she laughs, because she lives life to its fullest.

Haru instead notices the way his eyes change whenever he talks about his friends (and whenever he talks about his Boss, his fellow Guardians), knows that he is impartial to sushi but hates pickled radish with a passion, and wonders if he will ever be truly happy because he loves so strongly and seems to think that it's never enough. She hopes for the day that he will understand that he mustn't _do _anything but love—and that his heart will slowly, steadily expand with his love.

Within weeks, they realise, startled, that they have become friends.

_— falling —  
><em>

Thankfully, after that everything happens pretty quickly. They just needed that little something, a simple encounter after years of knowing of each others' presence to fall for each other.

And falling they are.

It's nothing coquettish—like running in circles or not knowing if the other likes oneself or not.  
>Haru realises it a bit earlier than Yamamoto (but then again, she is a girl, and also, she is <em>Miura Haru<em>) on one of their weekly (which aren't called that but _are_) lunch dates when he lets her switch their dishes—because there is _coconut milk _in the sauce and doesn't his salmon look simply delicious?—and rolls his eyes good-naturedly and touches her hand like it's the most natural thing in the world and she realises that it _is _and feels her heart pounding and her stomach plummeting and gets the serious urge to pull in his smiling face to _kiss him already_.

But she waits, patiently, for him to come to the same conclusion—until two weeks or so later, he knocks on the door of her dorm room, still clad in katana and suit, and she opens the door in her One Piece pyjamas.

He is sleep-deprived and jet-lagged, he says like it is an excuse, then pulls her into a loose embrace and asks "Will you be my girlfriend?" and she can answer, finally, "Of course I will."

He sighs and lets her kiss him (their first kiss, in a cold, dim-lit corridor of her University dorm, him half-asleep and full-exhausted, her high on coffee during an all-nighter for her History paper, with ink stains on her right auricle) and says, "Thank god. Those pyjamas were _killing _me."

For that, she hits him against the shoulder, and says daintily, well, she can always take them off, you know?

_— loving —  
><em>

The only question they will never be able to answer is _when _the realised they loved each other.

"Maybe after a year?" is Yamamoto's guess.

"When he proposed," Haru says but only because she hates not knowing the answer to a question (it's the teacher's daughter in her blood, that overachieving strike that she's always got).

"Ask Reborn. Or Nana-san," is Yamamoto's advice. "They are the ones who would know that kind of exact date."

And Sawada Nana says something about a well-cooked stew, how it takes time and good ingredients and, most often, a pinch of good luck and fortune—while Reborn cocks Leon, gun-shaped, says, "Get out," and means_ I'm just polite but what I mean is, get the fucking hell outta here._ And, like an afterthought: "Leave them the hell alone. Why would anyone need to know that stuff anyway?"

* * *

><p>Reviews = happy writer!<p> 


	34. slope

**Title**: hidden spots

**Characters**: Haru, others mentioned in passing

**Word count**: 438

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: none

**Prompt**: 30—slope

**A/N**: Do you know how difficult it was me for to get a good translation for the word 'slope'? xD

* * *

><p><strong>slope<strong>

Living as a friend to Vongola's Tenth Don is like living on a slope. You never have good footing, all of our favourite coffee mugs fall from the askeweating table, and your paintings and photographs look absolutely silly, hanging all straight on the walls.

Still, Haru _knows _that it's worth it. All the stupid kidnappers who think it's a _great_ idea to abduct her because she's still considered a civilian (and a female to top), and is therefore a weakness to the Famiglia. All the silly fearful looks from Italian mothers who call their children away from her whenever she visits the play ground. And all the (gosh) _respectful_, understanding looks from the young women on the streets with their breasts on display, with their heavy make-up and sad eyes.

It's all worth it because she cherishes faithfulness and friendship and these people who try to change a world of bloodshed and cruelty, so she endures it all with a with a wave of the hand, Namimori-imported cakes, and shared smiles with Sawada Kyouko-chan, the beloved retired Vongola Nono, and Irie Shouichi who knows better better than anyone else how it is to be sucked in crazy situation after crazy situation and somehow realising that you're able to stand up again faster every time it happens.

—

Knowing, though, doesn't prevent tripping over sticks and stones and maybe a few unconscious bodies.

Miura Haru is just very happy that there are always people who give her a hand when she most needs it.

Like when Gokudera-san quarterly decides to _not_ be a jerk and admits, grumbling, scowling, that, well, maybe she is not _that_ bad at strategy, and okay, she didn't _necessarily _cheat during their chess game just because she won.

Or when Hibari-san doesn't threaten to bite her to death when she borrows Hibird for an hour or two.

Or when Lussuria-nee-san visits—that in itself is a blast that highlights her month and leaves her in a good mood for at least another week.

And then, there is Yamamoto-kun (Takeshi-kun, _Takeshi, Takeshi, Takeshi_) who sets her head spinning, who treats her to her favourite chocolate bars whenever they walk by the only patisserie in Namimori that makes them, who bought her two beautiful charms for her bracelet (a sledge/hammer and a baby elephant) and who makes her fall in love with him everytime he smiles.

So maybe she will continue to trip and to fall—but the important thing, really, is that she will stand up again, time and time again, and there will be people who reach out their hands to help her stand up.

* * *

><p>I don't really like this drabble that much. But with 64 ones, I guess, one or two mediocre ones are okay?<p> 


	35. children

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 600

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: set in the TYL-timeline, but no spoilers, really.

**Prompt**: 12—_children_

**A/N**: This is pretty angsty, because, you know, no relationship is all fluff and candy floss, even though that makes my summary really a lie. I have no real-life experience whatsoever regarding that topic (and I hope I won't ever get any) and I hope I don't step on anyone's toes with this. Also, have you noticed my strange obsession of 8086-stuff happening in their bedroom? I don't even know why, sigh.

* * *

><p><strong>children<strong>

He knocks on the door to their bedroom.

Usually, that's it. He knocks, then he enters. There's no pause between the two actions. The knocking is more of a "Here I am" than a "May I enter?"—at least, that's the norm with them.

Today is an exception.

Today is an exception, in every way.

So he waits. He knocks on the door and waits, waits, waits.

And then, she says: "Come in," and he does.

The curtains to their bedroom windows are drawn and the air is stuffy, heavy.

Haru lies on their bed over the comforter, curled to oneside, both hands on her stomach. Her hair is down, just the way he loves it.

Looking at her like this makes him feel like someone put a string around his neck and _pulled_, like someone punched him in the guts, like someone tore his heart out.

He swallows, hard, unclenches his fists and sits down next to her on the edge of the bed. "Haru," he says; like an excuse, like an apology, like his heart: open, raw, hurt.

She doesn't answer but takes his hand in hers and interlaces them lightly.

After what feels like a millennium, she asks in a whisper: "Do you want children?"

He grips her hand tighter and stays silent, because how could he answer that question right? In this situation, there can be no right.

"I've always wanted children. I wanted to be a mother, a family." And then, the tears come. "I just didn't want this one. And now, it's gone. I didn't want it and it's _gone_." The last words are broken, sobbed. The grip on his hand has become vice-like. "I'm so sorry, Takeshi-kun, you have to believe me, I didn't want this to happen, I'm sorry, forgive me, _please_, forgive me …" Haru's words become a tumbled mess and her tears are hot on his skin, burning.

He doesn't know how he ends lying next to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her trembling form, kissing and wiping off her tears, but he says the only truth he knows is left: "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—"

He doesn't say _it's war and I hate that I think it but having a child now, with war and danger, I don't know if we would have made it. _He doesn't say _It's not your fault, you didn't kill our baby, I was afraid, too. _He doesn't say a lot of things because he doesn't know how, because he's always been better with actions than words and he feels so bad for not being able to do anything for the love of his life in the only situation in which she has ever said that she needs his forgiveness, _please_.

It hurts so much. He would have never believed how much loving can hurt, but what else but love does he feel right now? Love for that unborn child they could have had, love for this strong, broken-hearted woman in his arms, love, love, love.

He aches with it.

When she looks up in their embrace and the corner of her mouth trembles with the effort to not cry, his restraint breaks. Her clammy hands cradle his face, soothing and calming. He hides his tear-streaked face in the column of her neck. "I love you, too," she says like it is a strength, and it is. It is their strength and their downfall and everything in-between, but most of all it _is._

"I love you _so much_," she whispers in the stillness of their room.

* * *

><p>Thanks for the reviews, really, I appreciate each one of them!<p> 


	36. staring at the sun

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Sawada Tsunayoshi

**Word count**: 281

**Rating**: K+

**Spoilers**: This is set in the TYL-universe, so the war against Millefiore does happen.

**Prompt**: 60—_bright _

**A/N**: I seem to have lost my fluffy hand. Right. I'm trying to regain it. In fact, I hereby promise that the next drabble will be oozing with romance, kitsch and all the other beautiful things. XD

Thanks a ton to all reviewers, I hope that you will continue doing so, guys! :)

– bells, less than three

* * *

><p><strong>staring at the sun<br>**

Takeshi wouldn't have guessed: how it feels to be in love, to want someone as much as he wants Haru.

Loving her, it's like staring into the bright sun. Because the sun is … necessary to survive, because the sun is beautiful. Because it hurts so much to look.

Sometimes, he notices Tsuna noticing how he stares at her, and only then he stops, blinks with burning eyes and dry mouth and want in every limb.

The worst, maybe, is that she knows it. She smiles at him so much, she touches his hand and his temple, she hugs him hello and goodbye and in-between.

This is what blazes: that he knows that she likes him back, so much, and that he knows that they can not be together.

"I know," he says, "I know, I know, I know," until Tsuna puts a hand on his shoulder, in a stopping motion, "I know," he ends, pressing the palm of his hands against his stinging eyes.

"Someday," Tsuna starts but he never continues. He sounds so tired. (Takeshi would never have thought: that war doesn't make you as angry or sad as it makes tired, exhausted, too full with emotions to feel them anymore.)

"She loves me," Takeshi says, and it hurts, more like staring into the sun—it's the truth, and it's destroying him, because she _loves_ him, and god, _he loves her_, but that doesn't mean a fucking thing if he is going to endanger her. Because loving, in this war against Millefiore, is taking care of your beloved by not loving them.

"Someday," Tsuna sighs and if it wouldn't be Tsuna, he wouldn't believe in it.


	37. fruity

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 86

**Rating**: K

**Spoilers**: -

**Prompt**: 38—_fruity_

**A/N**: This is short and fruity and I just want to open my pomegranate lip balm right now xD Also, did I keep my promise or what? :D

Thanks for the reviews, I adore you people.

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>fruity<strong>

Haru swears by citrus fruits. She always has, and always will.

She explains: that's why her skin is unblemished, that's why her hair is so smooth and healthy, that's why her cooking is always delicious, and don't you dare mock me, Takeshi-kun, I know you love how my hair smells after my orange hair rinse—and slaps his shoulder because she thinks he looks too cocky, and gives him a kiss that smells like her grapefruit lip balm, but tastes essentially like her, just pure _Haru_.


	38. sky

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Haru, Tsuna, Reborn (Yamamoto, other Guardians)

**Word count**: 911

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: Why do I still have this? I _never_ use it. Sigh.

**Prompt**: 3—_sky_

**A/N**: I should warn you about Contradicting!Haru, Crazy Mood Swings!Tsuna (Mysterious And Cocky!Reborn has been a natural for me lately, so …).

And: Reviews would be truly lovely. If you have any suggestion as to what I could do better or what kind of story you would like to read, do tell! English is still not my first language, so if there are any kind of mistakes (idioms, spelling, grammar, blah), inform me and I'll edit it right away :)

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>sky<strong>

"Thank you all for taking time from your vacation to come here," Sawada Tsunayoshi, Tenth Don of the Great Vongola Mafia Famiglia, said to his Guardians.

"No sweat, Tsuna," Yamamoto Takeshi said good-naturedly, only to be glared at by Decimo's right-hand man who quickly added: "Whenever Juudaime needs me, I'll be there!"

Tsuna smiled just a little bit wearily, having learnt over the years that it was better to just accept certain things – like Gokudera's over-dedication, him being a Mafia boss or Reborn's antics in general.

Speaking of which.

"Go first, guys," Reborn ordered. "I have to talk with Tsuna about something."

They looked curious but as Chrome proposed some home-made curry the girls had made earlier for lunch, they shrugged and left the conference room.

"What do you want to talk about, Reborn?" Tsuna asked tiredly. "I hope it isn't anything about the whole Levi-A-Than-fiasco that happened in Yokohama … god, I thought we'd already obliterated all evidence against him …"  
>Reborn chuckled shortly as if reminiscing a nice, fuzzy memory, then said: "No, that's not it."<p>

"What is it then?"

And Reborn, never one for beating around the bush (well, most of the time), said: "What about romance?"

"_W-what_?" Tsuna spluttered. "What are you _talking_ about?"

"Don't be an idiot," Reborn ordered dismissively.

"I don't have the … the _slightest _clue what you want me to say! Or even what we're _talking _about!"

"I'm talking about relationships, Dame-Tsuna. You know: sex, love, marriage, romance. That thing."

Tsuna felt a headache coming up.

"You're the boss," Reborn stated rather seriously, "and it's your choice to permit certain things or not. These are times of war and we cannot afford anyone in the family to get sidetracked – or for them to leave the Family. You are Vongola Decimo. Stop ignoring what's right in front of you."

For a long time, Tsuna just looked at his mentor. Then he said, in a quiet, pained voice: "Yamamoto would never leave for some girl."

"You know as well as me that Haru isn't just some girl."

Tsuna sighed—and it was enough of a confirmation for his mentor.

"His father, the sushi shop, baseball—he would give it all up for the Famiglia. But Haru—"

"Yes, I _know_," Tsuna emphasized, and he _did_. He knew. He knew that Yamamoto was loyal to a fault (and in this case, Reborn deemed it exactly that: a mistake, a danger) and—when Haru could be safe as a simple civilian with no ties (but friendship) to the Vongola, he knew that she could never be _happy_.  
>Leaving would be the most rational thing to do. Tsuna couldn't even blame him for that.<p>

Tsuna sighed and repeated: "I know."

Reborn watched him silently, his mouth a thin line of disapproval at the state of his student.

Then, someone knocked on the door. In an instance, Tsuna straightened his posture. "Come in," the door was opened, " … Haru."

Haru smiled, a genuine but tired curving of her mouth. "Thank you, Tsuna-san." She turned to Reborn and nodded her head at him in acknowledgement.  
>Then she said, "Takeshi-kun won't leave," and her voice left no room for back talk. "He doesn't know that I'm here right now, speaking with you." She grinned but there was little humour in her eyes. "I'm sick and tired of not knowing what's going on, Tsuna-san. We <em>all <em>are, to be honest. And I—I won't press Takeshi-kun for information, or any of you, for that matter, because I respect your decisions. But I would like to be shown a little respect as well." She breathed in deeply. When she raised her eyes to his, there was—dedication, and assuredness. There was strength. "Do you think I would ever put my own happiness below others?"  
>Reborn raised an eyebrow at that sentence. One corner of his mouth curved to something akin to a smirk.<p>

"Because I wouldn't. Ever. I am—much too self-interested for that, like _any_ person in the world is.  
>I <em>am <em>happy. This, _my life_, it's not a fairytale or anything close to that—but it's _my _life, _my _decisions led to it and I'm _proud_ of what I achieved and how it is. I'm friends with these awesome people and I'm in love and—I _am _happy, I swear, so stop wondering when Takeshi-kun's going to leave you for me.  
>Because I won't let him, and even if he wants it more than—than is sword or beating Squalo-san or … or being a good friend, I <em>won't.<em>"

"Okay."

"And don't tell me that being out of danger would make me happier! First of, I wouldn't be out of danger—I won't ever be not in danger. And also, I can't _retire_ from being your friend! I _wouldn't _be happier with all of you out of my life. And—and I learned Italian! And why do you think I studied Law? It's not just because I love to hear myself speak! And–… did you say _okay_?" Her voice broke at the last word.

Tsuna nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes, I did."

"And—and _why_?" Haru sounded almost scandalized.

His little smile had turned into a full-blown grin: "You kind of lifted my spirits … you know?"

"Uh … no?"

"You did." Tsuna beamed. "Thanks a lot, Haru!" Then, he gave her a bone-crushing hug and left the room light-footed.

Haru turned around to Reborn questioningly, but he just shrugged and answered mysteriously: "A boss has to stay unpredictable, you know."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2:** And, "_you know"_, he has!

Because I honestly have no idea what this is. It started—quite angsty but then I couldn't finish it in weeks (this is one of the drabbles I started first) and today it ended. But—weirdly. Really, really weirdly.

About this Haru: I think she is full of contradictions. Like, she really is self-centred (because every human being is, and _should_ be, in a healthy way, of course, and maybe because she knows that letting Yamamoto leave would be much easier but she can't because she is loyal and proud), but also totally selfless (because she _would_ be much happier, in the simple, family-kind-of way even when she says she's not).

And I don't even know what I'm talking about xD I feel like this Haru is much too human (too complicated, too contradicted, and absolutely making no sense) for such a short story. Or for any story at all. I feel like I don't even understand her myself.

Right. I'm going to stop rambling. Right now.


	39. another point of view

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: two OCs (Touma Akemi, and Ito Sachi), Sasagawa Kyouko, Yamamoto Takeshi (others mentioned)

**Word count**: 1965

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**: none, ayayay. (And yeah, I finally changed the spoilers-section to a warnings-section.)

**Prompt**: 41—_tragedy _

**A/N 1: **Just FYI, high school in Japan starts in April. Also, Tsuna's birthday is on Oct 13th. Just saying … ^^

**A/N 2:** This was entirely too much fun to write :D Thanks to **seireeii** who mentioned in a review a few chapters ago that „[you] can pretty much make any of [the drabbles] be dark and depressing or sunshine and smiles. It all comes down to what you think of when you look at the prompt" which is a) totally right C: and b) triggered this oneshot. So, thanks for that :)

**A/N 3**: Reviews have dwindled down a bit lately. Is that my fault (as in, have the drabbles become worse in quality)? If not, it would be lovely for you to drop a sentence or two, it means the world to me :)  
>(Oh, and if yes, well then, even more reason to review, right? Improving is everything!)<p>

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>another point of view<strong>

"It's a tragedy," Touma Akemi sighed as she pinned a list on Namimori High's class 1-D's pin board.

"What is?" Ito Sachi asked absent-mindedly, turning a page of her Chemistry notebook.

"You know … that all the hot guys in our class are mentally unstable. Or gay."

Ito who had sipped on her orange juice spluttered and started coughing. Akemi laughed at her classmate's reaction.

"Akemi-san!" Ito said, a scandalized undertone lacing her voice, and wiped some orange juice from her chin.

"Don't be so stiff, Ito," she grinned, "it's the truth. You know, like Hibari? I mean, since I'm class representative, I sometimes have to talk with the Disciplinary Committee—and I'm just saying, but Hibari is crazy. Like, _totally_ crazy. Once, I walked into the office without knocking because the door was open and he would have killed me with those tonfa-…_thingies _he always carries with him. Thank god Kusakabe-kun was there as well.  
>And what about Gokudera? I mean, I love myself some bad boy—but he should seriously consult some psychologist about his aggression problems. Also, have you seen how he looks at that boy from 1-C? <em>Totally <em>gay."

Ito mumbled something into the straw of her juice box.

"What did you say?" Akemi asked with a push pin in her mouth. "Hey, how do you think that looks?" She surveyed the placard the class had come up with for the annual school festival. "Thank god for Kurokawa. That girl should go to an Arts school or something."

"I said," Ito said with a blush, "not every one is like that."

She raised an eyebrow: "Yeah, the ugly ones. And I'm not saying that we haven't got those, too. No discrimination on my part, here."

"Yamamoto-san is nice and, um, good-looking," the girl said. Akemi turned around to really look at her—not in the artificial way she had done with almost all her classmates for the two and a half months since High School had started, but _really_ observe her—and what she saw, was … well, a girl who had obviously fallen in love. Already.

Huh.

Ito Sachi had light brown hair and big hazel eyes. She was pretty for school standard, but gorgeous in that classic, time-less way, effortlessly, somehow. She was also very friendly about the fact that she was much more clever than the other girls in class—always acting humble, always being nice and amiable.

(Akemi thanked Kami that she had never been prone to jealousy.)

All in all, Akemi decided, Ito was not a girl who would get a boyfriend early in high school, but someone who would snatch a nice hubby in college.

Bad luck that she had found her Prince Charming a few years too early.

—

Akemi was a girl who acted on her gut feelings more than on anything else.

She found that, this way, the results always turned out fine (well, from averagely good to rather good)—if it were any other way, she would of course change her modus operandi, but as of now …

**—**

"Yamamoto! Oi, Yamamoto, wait up!"

The tall boy turned around as he heard his name and smiled that nice smile of his. Akemi swooned a little inside (it was a natural reaction, so no worries. She had decided she wanted to be Ito's friend and she helped her friends, no matter what, so …) and returned his smile.

"What's up, Touma?"

"Oh," she clasped her hands behind her back, "nothing much." She fell in step with him as they walked towards the bicycle stand. He looked at her quizzically, then seemed to shrug it off (she had noticed these past two weeks that that was a common thing for him to do).

They both unlocked their bicycles (who were strategically side by side) and wheeled them towards the gates.

"So …" Akemi drawled.

Yamamoto looked askance at her, then said in a funny voice: "Touma, you're not coming to tell me that you like me, do you?"

"W-what?" she spluttered and forced a laugh. Well, he was more observant than she had thought him to be. "_No_, of _course _not! I mean, we don't even know each other properly, _right_? I mean, not even _then_. You're just not my type, you know?"

"You have a type?" Yamamoto sounded amused.

"Of course I have. _Everyone_ does, even if not everyone realises it." She grinned.

"Yeah right."

"No, what I wanted to talk about … you know Ito, right? Ito Sachi? I put you and her together on the sports committee for the festival. And I just wanted to make sure that you're …"

"_Yamamoto-kun!_"

"… okay with it_."_

Two girls their age approached them, waving at Yamamoto. One had shiny dark brown hair (she had to ask for the conditioner she used …) and a cute button nose, the other had medium-long honey brown hair and a seriously pretty smile. She wore a Namimori High uniform (the other wore street clothes) and Akemi's gut told her that it was her who she should be cautious of. She was exactly the same type as Ito, only … more radiant, though still remaining the gentleness that Ito possessed.

"Ohayo, Yamamoto-kun," they said in unison.

"Hey," he answered, "thanks for waiting up, Sasagawa. Baseball practice ended a bit later than usual."

"It's no problem at all." Sasagawa? Like in, school idol Sasagawa Kyouko? Oh. Dear. Kami. "We had to wait for Nii-chan anyway, you know how he can be …"

"To the extreme," both chorused.

This was not good.

"So, let's get going," the other girl said with a wave, and the way her ponytail swished … Kami, she had amazing hair, "I want sushi!"

The girls linked arms with each other, and started walking. Yamamoto turned to Akemi, smiling apologetically: "I'm sorry, I have to go. But, I'm fine with whatever. I trust you, you're a good class representative. Bye!" With those words, he followed the girls.

This was not good at all.

**—**

Plan Let Yamamoto Not Fall In Love With Sasagawa Kyouko (correlated with Plan Yamamoto Must Fall In Love with Ito) didn't work out quite as good as she had imagined it would.

Whenever she saw Yamamoto out of the classroom, he was either with Sasagawa Ryohei or Sasagawa Kyouko.

It was now early October (school festival had gone off without a hitch, and Yamamoto _still _hadn't even had one private conversation with Ito). This was so bad.

Sasagawa always came to their classroom to eat lunch with him (and Gokudera for that matter, but hey, he was gay) and they always spoke quietly, like they had real … conversations, and with romantic undertones no less.

It was horrible.

**—**

Akemi decided (well, her gut told her it was the best way) that an open approach, a direct attack was the most preferable way to handle this situation.

So, she put on her favourite hair band (hot pink; it looked gorgeous in her chocolate brown hair) and cornered the school idol during one lunch break on the 13th of October.

"Hi," she squeezed out on octave higher than usual, "Sasagawa-san, can I have a minute of your time?"

Sasagawa looked up from her bento box, a slow smile steadying her face. "Of course. Touma-san, is it?"

Akemi nodded and clasped her hands behind her back while she waited for the girl to get up. They then left the room together and walked out of the building to the—yes, Akemi was kind of dramatic—baseball field.

They stayed silent for a few moments, only looking at the baseball team doing exercises.

"Did you know," Akemi then started, "that my friend is in love with Yamamoto?"

Sasagawa looked mildly curious but otherwise undisturbed by that revelation.

"Her name is Ito Sachi—and she is the sweetest girl I've ever met. I—I want her to be happy, you know, and I think Yamamoto could make her very happy. _You _don't need him to be happy, do you? I mean, you're so popular, and nice, and well-liked—and you've got an older brother and—you don't need him as much as she does. You don't deserve him as much."

Sasagawa's smile had faded over Akemi's speech but her eyes were still warm. "Love isn't about needing or deserving," was the first thing she said. The second was: "I'm sorry, but I don't think that Yamamoto-kun will get together with Ito-san."

She looked sad, a little bit, but not apologetic as she inclined her head at Akemi and left her alone to her brooding.

**—**

"Hey, Ito," Akemi said as she sat down next to her friend five minutes before class started.

"Akemi-san," Ito sounded surprised, but not negatively so. The surprise turned into shyness the longer Akemi stayed silent.

She sighed. "Can you stay after school? We have to talk."

"Oh." Ito looked crest-fallen, so perhaps she already knew about her failing with Yamamoto. "Yes. Of course.

**—**

"I'm sorry," Akemi blurted out after their last classmate—ironically, Yamamoto—left the room. Ito shot her a confused look, remained, however, silent otherwise. "I mean, I tried to help you, I really did, I _wanted _to give you a chance with Yamamoto. But I don't think that will happen. He and Sasagawa—they seem pretty close. And—"

"What?" Ito sounded almost angry. "What are you talking about?"

"I … kind of wanted to bring you and Yamamoto together. 'cause you're in love with him and all. But it didn't work and I'm _sorry _that it didn't work out."

"Oh." Ito's face was blank.

"So …"

"I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

This time it was Akemi who looked angry, surprised. "Why would you think that?" And then she realised why Ito would have thought that. They way she had rushed out every lunch break these past months, the way she always looked at Yamamoto and behaved practically like a stalker. "Oh."

"Yes."

"Did you think _I _…?"

"Well, _aren't_ you?"

"No!"

Ito's mouth curved into a slow, pretty smile: "Well, me neither. And even if I were—friendship is much more important than boys."

"Even when they're good-looking and nice?"

"Even then."

Akemi sighed. "I wanted to be your friend. I still want to. It's why I started the whole campaign, you know." She was surprised when Ito pulled her into a soft hug, but soon enough, they were crushing each others bones with their hug and laughed and giggled and even cried a few tears over the unnecessary drama they (Akemi) had put each other through.

Later, when they walked out of school together, with linked arms and twin smiles on their face, Ito said: "If you had talked to me, I could have told you that I knew it would be in vain. Almost _everyone _knows that Yamamoto-san has a girlfriend. Which is why I knew that he isn't homosexual, by the way."

"I didn't want to endanger the mission so I told nobody and asked nobody for any insider information about him … but, I mean, Yamamoto and Sasagawa are quite an obvious couple, aren't they?"

"Akemi-san … uh, Sasagawa-san and Yamamoto-san?" Ito looked at her dubiously. "I thought I misheard before. But they're not together. One of Yamamoto-san's best friends has a huge crush on her—apparently, he has since Middle School—and Yamamoto-san is with a girl from Midori High."

"Wh-wh-what? But I was _so _sure! My gut feeling-…! I mean …"

Ito shrugged grinningly. As the waited on a crossroad for the lights to turn green, Ito said: "There, look—there's Yamamoto-san, and his girlfriend as well. Gosh, she has pretty hair, hasn't she? And it looks so voluminous and shiny, too. Do you think she dyes it? It's such a pretty brown …"

**—**

Gut feeling be damned, Akemi thought.

* * *

><p>I very recently read the last seven or so chapters of KHR and am, btw, SO crushing on those! It was just made of pure win, everything about it. Reborn, the other Arcobaleno, each of Tsuna's prior antagonists forming an alliance—but most of all Tsuna himself, who again had some great character development. I love the Curse of the Rainbow arc about that—that they go, like, back to the roots, that it's about resolve and your heart more than about your power and brawn and all. I mean, of course there're going to be power-ups—it's Shounen and we love it for what it is—but I really, really like Amano's approach in this.<p>

However: the cover of KHR 392? It made me _so_ angry, really, I died a thousand deaths. Chrome, Kyouko, Haru—the "steadfast allies—cheerleaders of dying will [heart]".  
>OKAY. It's sad enough that the female author herself degrades the only girls in Tsuna's age group in her manga who could get their bums up and DO something, be strong, be great to … <em>cheerleaders<em>. But to put CHROME with them? Like, the MIST GUARDIAN? (Or at least half of it?) Just as Chrome gets do some ass-kickery, Amano does _that_? I just don't understand that.

Right, I'll stop my rant. The point I initially wanted to make was that that was the reason why I came up with Akemi. Because she's exactly the kind of character who could be more than a girl, you know?

Oh, and I want some Adriano/Akemi. Or Akemi/Ito, I've not decided which boat I'm shipping here xD


	40. rise

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Miura Haru, Sawada Tsunayoshi (Yamamoto Takeshi mentioned)

**Word count**: 452

**Rating**: K

**Warnings**: Total and utter _crack_. (honestly, bending prompts to this and that is so … arwggh.)

**Prompt**: 21—_rise_

**A/N 1**: I should stop exploiting Tsuna and Reborn so much as plot devices for my 8086 stories, I really should. But. They're just the easiest for me to write (also, could you imagine, say, _Mukuro_ in Tsuna's role?)

(…)

(In true Barney Stinson fashion, I say: Challenge Accepted.)

**A/N 2**: Review please? :)

* * *

><p><strong>rise<strong>

Contrary to popular belief, Yamamoto Takeshi was not an early riser.

He loved to sleep in long, to take afternoon naps (thank God for the siesta) and just to have a good night's rest.

So wherever he was, whether in Sicily, or Japan, or recently in the USA, he took the time to sleep at least nine hours per day.

It would be silly to say that he was _grumpy_ whenever someone disturbed that rest, or that he couldn't work as well, as efficiently without those hours of sleep—that just wasn't in his nature, wasn't how he as a person worked—but since every of Tsuna's Guardians had some (_a lot_) quirks, he was happy that his Rain Guardian's was just his love for sleeping late.

**—**

Also contrary to popular belief (the general masses—well, if you can call people who know about Mafia "general masses"—rather whispered about a_ménage à __trois_, whispered about_ you always realise what you want if it's gone_, and wanted the typical drama associated with Mafia Dons and women), exactly _that _habit was the reason Vongola Decimo was initially against the budding relationship between his Rain Guardian and one Miura Haru.

"But Haru … uh, Haru, wait up!" Sawada Tsunayoshi, twenty-year-old undergraduate and newly appointed Don of the Vongola Famiglia, exclaimed as the pair of them crossed a street. Haru was a few steps in front of him, her ponytail swishing left to right, and in each of her hands were three bags from her shopping tour on which he had accompanied her. "Haru-…!"

"No, Tsuna-san," Haru said without deigning to look at him, "no matter what you say, I won't. Leave me alone, hahi."

"What about-… uh, Gokudera-kun? Or, eh, Dino-nii-san? Or Hibari-san! You, um, like his bird, right? Hibird!"

A few house blocks away from her destination, she turned around with a flourish, an incredulous, but also slightly amused look on her face. "Really, Tsuna-san?"

"No," her friend said, sighing. "Okay, that was ridiculous."

She gave him a knowing look with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "but, I mean, I really don't think you two—"

"We are _perfect _for each other," Haru interrupted, voice lilting with confidence.

"But—"

"We _are_," she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him, tone hard. "And even if we _weren't__**, **_I wouldn't care. I'm sorry but this is between him and me, and if Takeshi-kun will ever decide that he doesn't want to go out with me anymore _because he needs his beauty sleep_, I'm going to kick him where it hurts and leave him alone. Until then … I'm going to stay where I am. At his side."

And Tsuna couldn't really say anything more about it, could he?


	41. crumble

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 191

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**: Misuse of parentheses.

**Prompt**: 22—_crumble _

**A/N**: Is this supposed to be-… _funny_? Humorous, even? (Nooooo_oooo_.)

**EDIT**: Oops. How could I not have noticed that I've already used this prompt? (Insert facepalm here.) Well. Um. I kind of don't know what to do now. Huh. Any suggestions? xD

* * *

><p><strong>crumble<strong>

When it happens, Yamamoto is totally caught off-guard.

Yamamoto reprimands himself that he has never thought of such a scenario (because it was evident that it would happen, _sometime_), but well, what's over is over, he can't change that anymore. (Sadly.)

So, instead he puts his baseball gear and sports bag in a corner and smiles at his father … and his girlfriend (sitting together at their kitchen table, thumbing through photo albums).

"Hey, ossan. Haru."

Haru smiles at him brightly without saying anything but his father stands up from his seat and greets him with a hand on his shoulder. His smile is nondescript. Yamamoto suppresses the urge to frown at the old man.

"What … erm, are you doing here?" (_Together_, is what he wants to ask, _together in my kitchen going through highly embarrassing photos of me as a baby … my girlfriend and my father _…)

(He tries not to panic.)

(Suffice to say, he fails epically.)

"Haru here came by to bring some apple crumble. And since we hadn't met before," his father grins (diabolically), "I invited her to stay for dinner."

"Oh," he says.


	42. with a kind of reckless abandon

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Haru, Yamamoto (also, I imagine a lot of other facepalming people in background)

**Word count**: 1126

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**:

**Prompt**: 27—_give_

**A/N 1**: This can be read as a companion piece to CH 36—_staring at the sun_, though it's not quite as angsty as that one was.

**A/N 2**: Thanks a lot for the reviews (also, a special thank you to all the anons who have reviewed this drabble collection—I'm grateful for you and would thank each one of you personally if I could. So, if anyone of you want a review response, leave a mail address or something :)). I'd be super-happy if you would take your time to review this chapter, too :)

Love,  
>bells<p>

* * *

><p><strong>with a kind of reckless abandon<strong>

Haru is a passionate sort of girl.

She loves and hates with a kind of reckless abandon. Most of the time, she wears her heart on the sleeve.

The world (and especially one Mafia Famiglia) should be thankful that Mother Nature also equipped her with a healthy amount of intelligence. Due to this, she has an eye for reality—and thankfully, over the years, she has learnt to listen to that (and yes, listening to an eye is possible. At least in Miura Haru-logic).

Haru also falls in love. Often.  
>In the majority of cases, she falls out of it as fast as she falls in it (which can range between a few hours to a few months, on the average)—but there have been instances in which giving up on her romantic feelings for someone is simply out of the question<em>.<em> These are times when she just flat-out refuses to stop loving, because, you know, when someone can invoke so many good emotions in you, when to stop loving this person feels like to stop breathing, then you just don't let go, because gosh, this could be once in a lifetime, right?

You don't just give _up_.

Contrary to popular belief, giving up on Sawada Tsuna is not at all like this for Haru. He was just her first serious crush, her first falling in love. Nowadays, she looks at him, with his wiser (and sadder, and kinder) smile and the warm glow in his eyes, and is proud of this boy who she has been in love with for so long, proud for seeing something in him when, to most people, he was just Dame-Tsuna—but her romantic feelings for him have long since diminished to a kind of sisterly friendship. And there is really no reason for that. It's not that another boy caught her eye—or that she'd give up on her feelings with Kyouko in the picture. Maybe that has stopped her from ever really acting on her feelings, but stopping her feelings? Another girl, even pretty and kind-hearted Kyouko-chan, could never do that to Miura Haru.

It just … ended, you know? Because she was young and amazingly stupid and silly, a lot of times, and falling out of love is as easy for Haru than falling in it. That's that emotional, passionate site of her, for sure.

Haru knows all that quite well. She's clever and if not highly self-centred, then at least pretty well in tune with herself—her state of mind, of heart, of soul.

That's why she tries to be sensible about this whole disaster of a romance. She really does. She tries to drop hints (the size of boulders), tries it with bold—girlish—shy—up-beat—and realises that nothing helps.

Miura Haru loves and hates with reckless abandon and decides fervently that she just won't accept that Yamamoto Takeshi doesn't want a date with her.

_So, what now?_ She thinks as he slams the door in her face, a pout on her face. _You can't run from me forever_, she thinks and finds it quite catchy, so she repeats loud enough that Takeshi could hear it through the closed door: "You can't run from me forever! _Do you hear me!_ Someday you're going to get tired and then, I'll be there, and I'll catch you." Maybe she acts a little … melodramatic, but after waiting about 184-and-three-quarter minutes in front his stupid room to finally get him to talk to her and as a result, getting a door slammed in front of her face (and also, after reading way too much shoujo manga), one can't really expect anything else from her, can one?

"_Go away!_" He shouts quite desperately and it's a wonder that he even reacts at all.

"NO WAY!" She screeches back because, really, _no way. _"I won't, Takeshi-kun, so for Kami's sake, stop hiding from me because it WON'T CHANGE A THING!"

Then, suddenly, the door is opened again and, since she sat with her back _against_ the door (after she'd stopped banging on it …), she falls flat on the floor. She can see the ceiling of his room and if she cranes her neck, maybe half of his face. "Hahi," she says, and grins up to him. "Finally giving up?"  
>He sounds so tense, she thinks, when he answers: "Haru." As if her name (and consequently, her <em>person<em>) is something that only stresses him out.

She sits up, stands up and searches his face for something. She doesn't really find it.

"I didn't think you really want me to give up on this, Takeshi-kun, that's why I didn't until now. But if this is a hassle to you …" She frowns when _he_ frowns because she doesn't like to see him stressed out like this. "Tell me now that you don't like me at all. That I just … imagined this—_thing_ between us. Tell me that it's not just because of Mafia and Millefiore that you don't want to be with me—and I'll leave you alone. I'll stop pestering you about this." Haru doesn't add that this doesn't mean she will stop falling for him. It wouldn't make him happy.

For a long time, he is quiet, eyes flickering between this or that, body rigid and stiff, and she realises that he _won't say it_, because he can't, right?

Because he likes her as well.

But he doesn't say it and Haru is intelligent, she knows why.

He likes her, (and maybe, maybe he is falling for her, falling as hard and as fast and as deep as she does for him) so it is her life that he wants to protect. More than her feelings of … contentment, or joy. More than his own happiness.

Her heart soars with all the feelings she has for him, the good ones (love, adoration, _you have such a good heart_) and the bad ones (anger, infuriation, _how can you be so stupid?_), but in the end she settles for a forced smile and stepping back a few feet.

"Okay. It's fine. I'd, um, better be going now. I … I'll see you at dinner, right? The day after tomorrow?" Haru doesn't give him a chance to reply. She adds, "I'm going to wait."

Then, she is out of the door, with her heart fluttering like a dragonfly's wings.

She knows that it would be a lot easier on both of them if she could stop her feelings for him, if she could stop liking him like she does right now, if she'd be able to project her emotions on another person. She can't though, it just isn't possible. She's given her heart to him and can only hope that he'll take care of it.


	43. empire

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi/Miura Haru

**Word count**: 274

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**: None whatsoever.

**Prompt**: 43—_empire_

**A/N**: I like this prompt so much, I don't know ::heart::

* * *

><p><strong>empire<strong>  
><em>Give me your hand, and I'll lay an empire to your feet.<em>

_.  
><em>

When Haru enters the ballroom, she knows she isn't the most beautiful girl around. She sees a lot of fiancées and courtesans who outshine her by far, with smaller waists or heavier bosoms or terrifyingly beautiful faces—but still, she has felt never more pretty than tonight.

It is the annual Cavallone ball they are attending and after years of convincing and persuading and _begging_, Tsuna has finally allowed his civilian, female friends into his Famiglia. Tonight is the night Kyouko and Haru can at long last show their allegiance to Vongola.

They are both wearing jewellery; Kyouko a bracelet with the renowned Vongola rubies which belonged to Vongola Ottava, Haru rosé pearl stud earrings that Vongola Nono's deceasedwife wore at her engagement party in 1961.

Both pieces of jewellery are famous in Mafia-circles and will be recognised almost instantly. Yes, there will be no turning back after this day. Not for Kyouko who will be introduced today as Vongola Decimo's fiancée.

Not for Haru who will be targeted from today on as Vongola Decimo's Rain Guardian's girlfriend.

Is it sick that everything she feels is happiness, gladness, she wonders as she descends the stairs and grasps Yamamoto's proffered hand.

And he smiles at her, not entirely comfortable but trusting nonetheless—so she smiles back and forgets everything but his other hand on the small of her back, the glint and sparkle of the glass of the chandeliers, the swaying people call ballroom-dancing and this night that will be hers, forever, no matter what else is going to happen in the future.

* * *

><p>Reviews make my day :)<p> 


	44. wonderment

**Title**: hidden spots

**Characters**: Yamamoto, Haru

**Word count**: 381

**Rating**: K

**Warnings**: None.

**Prompt**: 45—_rings_

**A/N**: I actually had a kind of cool idea for this prompt, but it went on and on and has now reached almost 2000 words and it is more Haru-centered than Yamamoto/Haru stuff, so I've decided that after I've finished that, I'm going to post it as a separate OS.

Drop a review, please! :)

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>wonderment <strong>

"Green," Haru decides, "or maybe yellow? Like—amber? Amber is of course, a lot less expensive than a, say, emerald, but I think it has this … warmth, this easiness that other gemstones don't have."

Sometimes, Yamamoto wonders how he gets in situations.

Never in the way that Tsuna wonders (panicked, a little bit hysterical, with a side-glance to Reborn because, well, mostly these things happen because of Reborn, to be honest), or in that distinguished Squalo-mannor (with a "VOI!" on his lips, sword ready to poke anything and everything, scowling at mostly Xanxus, or, really, anyone of the Varia) but in that curious, not over-interested way of his.

Of course, he'd _like_ to know. It would be interesting to know how. But his life doesn't depend on it and if he will never know, then okay. That's fine too. (It's kind of his philosophy of life, but it's also part of that philosophy that he doesn't know what that exactly entails) (and if that didn't make any sense, well, that's part of his philosophy as well).

There is no real pattern as to what he finds worth to wonder about or not. He didn't question himself when he decided he wanted to play baseball. He didn't wonder why he has always loved chopping vegetables in Oyaji's kitchen.

He didn't wonder why he got himself in this Mafia game that means more than any other game in the world.

_But_, he wondered why Reborn likes his shoulder so much that he jumps on it every chance he gets. He wondered why he is the Rain Guardian and not, say, the Sun Guardian?

And now, he wonders how he got himself in this situation: where Haru and he walk through the streets of Namimori on a Saturday afternoon, him with his baseball equipment after a long training unit, her in her Midori school uniform—him listening to her talk about engagement and wedding rings.

"And the band? I mean, Platinum is modern right now—but personally, I find gold much more classic. It's variable, too, right? You can choose a rosé gold, or a white gold or yellow gold or—"

Yamamoto nods, listening intently, asking questions here and there, and doesn't wonder one single moment why he doesn't mind Haru's incessant chatter at all.

* * *

><p>Oh, dear Yamamoto :) That's because you're in luuurvvvvvvvvv. ;D<p>

**Edit**: Before I forget it—guys, a few hours ago I got my 100th review on this story! This is so amazing, thanks to all you reviewers out there for that! Also, I actually can't believe that this is the 44th chapter already. I'm so proud of myself, haha.  
>This begs for celebration cake, right? :D<p> 


	45. enemy gate

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru, Miura Daisuke (kinda OC because he didn't get a personality in the manga?), Miura Natsuko (OC), Yuni (is it Uni or Yuni?), Gokudera Hayato

**Word count**: 1120

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**: Nopp. Nopp? What the.

**Prompt**: 58—_enemy gate_

**A/N 1**: Haru's parents don't live in Namimori anymore, in my headcanon. They live … somewhere … else? xD

**A/N 2**: I really don't have a title for this. And "enemy gate" is definitely not fitting, so if anyone has a suggestion, I'd welcome it :D

* * *

><p><strong>enemy gate<strong>

Miura Daisuke is not an easy man to please.

It is simple for him to show affection, to love—simpler than for other people in general, but especially males.

It still remains truth though that, even when he loves someone, he is not very often pleased with that person.  
>Maybe that is because he is a teacher and teachers can never be a hundred per cent content with an answer. Maybe it is a character trait in the Miura family. Maybe it is just him.<p>

So, Miura Natsuko who knows her husband like the back of her hand does not have very high hopes for this dinner.

She sighs as she stirs the curry and takes the red wine out of the refrigerator to let it cool off. Just as she wants to look into the salmon in the oven, the house door is opened and she can hear a mix of voices through the closed kitchen door.

Not even ten seconds later, her one and only daughter comes rushing in, a big smile plastered on her face and a glowing on her person that comes with things like success and love.

"O-kaa-chan!" Haru-chan says and hugs her mother close. Natsuko smiles (Haru-chan has always been more of a mama's girl) and kisses her on the cheek. "Thank you so much for letting us sleep here … it was so complicated, the whole coming back from Italy and then the hotel says that we didn't book rooms and-… hahi, it smells delicious! Oh, I'm so happy to eat home-made food from you, O-kaa-chan! It's so good to be in Japan again …" Natsuko smiles and indulges her as she chatters about everything and nothing. Before her daughter can tell her about her room in the Sicilian manor she has lived in the past year, someone knocks on the open door. It's a tall, handsome boy (young man) with an entirely too easy smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Miura-san," he says as he extends his hand to her. She takes it and they shake hands. It's such a simple, easy gesture—and Natsuko has the feeling everything is with this boy. "So, you're Yamamoto Takeshi-san?" He nods in response, smiling sunnily.

"Is everything alright?" Haru-chan asks with a worried undertone—one that not everyone would hear because of its subtlety, but Yamamoto Takeshi-san closes the distance between himself and her daughter, brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, and says, his voice low and gentle: "Of course it is."

She hasn't noticed how tense her daughter has been the whole time—only as she visibly slackens her shoulders does she realise it.

Miura Natsuko has always had the feeling that this one has been second choice, that he probably loves her more than she him (maybe because Haru-chan always, always talked about _Tsuna-san _and never about much else) but as she sees her only daughter interact with this man, she starts to wonder if it isn't the other way around.

–

Yamamoto Takeshi-san, Haru-chan as well as two of their friends (a pretty girl named Yuni-chan and an angry-looking boy, Gokudera Hayato-san) sit down at the dining table. They have all brought lovely gifts—an espresso machine for Daisuke-kun who needs caffeine as much as Maths, a gorgeous glass jug with intricate embellishments, and a picture book about Siena for her because she has always wanted to go there, sometime.

During dinner, they make light, nice conversation but Natsuko's gaze remains mainly on her husband who in turn mainly frowns at Yamamoto Takeshi-san and Haru-chan.

Miura Daisuke is not an easy man to please.

Natsuko sighs.

–

Later, as she and Takeshi-san (she has decided that with the way her daughter looks at this man, this step may be necessary) do the dishes, they talk about gastronomy. And books. And Vivaldi.  
>It is astonishing how well they get on, Natsuko thinks while she smiles because he tells an adorable story about Haru in her first year of high school. He looks so much at ease in her home, with his arms deep in the dish water, even when it doesn't make any sense.<p>

Takeshi-san is not the kind of boy Natsuko would ever have thought Haru-chan would bring home to meet the parents (even though this time it was more out of necessity than want)—he is entirely different from what Haru always liked in a romantic interest: the way he doesn't try to woo her every second, how he isn't romantic at all, how he doesn't seem to have a care in the world.

It is not that Natsuko is unhappy about the choice Haru has made—it is just that she will need some time to readjust and open her mind about this new possible son-in-law.

–

While Haru-chan and Yuni-chan prepare the guest rooms and Takeshi-san and Gokudera Hayato-san talk with Daisuke-kun on the patio, Natsuko gets some time to watch Takeshi-san interact with her husband.

He handles it with the casual ease he seemingly handles everything with but without being impolite or improper. The worst one could think of him is that he maybe is a little too ingenuous for his age.

They speak about baseball (he played one season for the Seibu Lions) and white wine and when Gokudera Hayato-san leaves to take a shower, the conversation doesn't really change; until Daisuke-kun says: "I love my daughter more than my own life."

Takeshi-san remains silent for a rather long time, but Daisuke-kun can show patience if it's necessary, so he doesn't say anything either.

In the end, Takeshi-san lets out a little laughter (it sounds sadder than everything she has heard from him, and sadder than everything Natsuko has thought him capable of) and answers: "I love her more than my own life too, Sir."

And Daisuke-kun nods, dismissing him.

–

When they're in bed, they talk about Haru-chan. How she's grown up so much, how she has become so beautiful, how proud they can be that she is their daughter.

They don't talk much about Takeshi-san because there is nothing to talk about.

She loves him—one had to be blind to think otherwise—and more importantly, he loves her (in a simple and casual way that will hold for a lifetime. He loves her, Natsuko supposes, the only way he can).

–

The next morning, before they leave for Namimori, Natsuko pulls Takeshi-san to a quiet corner, and thrusts four bento boxes into his quickly following hands.

"She loves you, Takeshi-san," she says.

(It is not a blessing, but Natsuko doesn't think he needs one because Haru has chosen and Takeshi has chosen—they have chosen each other and is there really anything more important than this little fact?)

* * *

><p>Me thinks that it was much more important to convince Haru's mother of Yamamoto's qualities than her father.<p>

And well, I imagine her opinion of him went something like that: my daughter is too good for a hoodlum like him; anyways, she doesn't really love him → hm, okay, maybe she loves him more than I thought? → Yamamoto Takeshi-san → Takeshi-san → hm, okay, maybe they love each other equally strongly? → yeah, they do → welcome to the family.

Or something like that :D

Reviews equal love :)

Signing out,

bells

**edit**: Wow. If those arrows work, then what about hearts? I'll try now. 3 (Okay, still not working. Good to know.)


	46. wedding jitters

**Title**: hidden spots

**Characters**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 1074

**Rating**: T for some cussing.

**Warnings**: Perhaps OOC-ness on Yamamoto's part, but then again, weddings jitters and acting out of character kinda go hand in hand, right? :D

**Prompt**: 40—_comedy of errors_

**A/N**: Thanks a lot to all my reviewers out there! I kinda adore you :)

* * *

><p><strong>wedding jitters<strong>

"This is wrong on so many levels," Yamamoto said, one hand still on the door knob, the other running through his hair, parts surprised, parts exasperated (but seriously, more exasperated than anything).

His fiancée, he decided, was ridiculous.

There she sat at the kitchen table: wearing a flimsy nightgown, towel turban on her head, her feet in transparent plastic bags that were knotted around her ankles.

"What are you doing, Haru?" he asked as he shrugged his suit jacket off. He eyed the bottle of olive oil, the salt container, the flour container, and two squashed lemon halves on the worktop. "Why are you cooking at … 4:30 in the morning?"

Haru looked at him a little sceptically, a little like, _does he really not know? Should I truly marry a man who does _not _understand what I'm doing right now?_

He felt himself tensing under her gaze without wanting to.

"I have a meeting with Enma-san and Adelheid-san at seven." She shrugged when he looked at her incredulously. "You know how Adelheid-san is. And I don't care that much, it's only once a month. I had to wake up early anyways, but I couldn't really sleep, so I stayed up and did some DIY-wellness."

_If he doesn't know what DIY means, then I'm going to divorce him. Or whatever you call it when you're only engaged … _

She was testing him. She had to be.

But she just smiled on, continuing to explain why she was in this ridiculous getup. "I did an oil-salt-peeling for my feet, she wriggled her toes in the bags, and a deep conditioning with olive oil and lemon juice." Then, she wrinkled her nose. "But you have to wait for at least two hours for the peeling to really work, so after I washed the conditioner out, I was bored, and decided to bake some tortillas. Ne, Takeshi-kun, do you like tortillas? We can have enchiladas or quesadillas for supper if you want."

She was _so _…

"If you want to break off the engagement, do it now!" It came out—out of nowhere, and a lot more forceful and panicked (and ridiculous) than he expected.

"Hahi?!" The stunning smile fell off her face. "_What_ are you talking about, Takeshi-kun?!"

He stared down at his feet.

"Do _you_ want to break it off?" And now, she sounded teary.

He almost groaned. _Fuck it all, you're such a dick. _

"Of course I don't want to break it off! But you're just so–… so _weird _and ridiculous," Haru opened her mouth in protest, but he just continued, "and I don't understand you _at all_, and I don't even know you, I didn't even know that you could bake _tortillas_, did I, and you're this … _amazing _girl—I don't know what I can do to keep you, so if you want to realise that you're not … satisfied with ending up with me, I'd rather you do that now than on our wedding day in front of the priest and all of our friends and family." He breathed out heavily. "Also, what the hell are you wearing, how can you wear that?"

When he looked up, her mouth was a thin line, neither up nor down, and her eyes were unmoving.

Then, she said: "It's a perfectly acceptable piece of nightwear."

And it was. Perfectly acceptable for ripping off, for staring at, for getting seduced. Not for breaking off engagements. Not for his sanity.

In the silence that he didn't dare to fill, she sighed, heavily, and finally turned her eyes towards him. Her mouth curved into a (lovely) wry smile. "You know, I kind of lied."

His brain hurt with all the possibilities with which she could have lied to him in the course of their relationship and his stomach turned at the thought of what would hurt the most ("I love you"—"You're not the consolation price, you're not second choice"—"Yes").

"I'm tired as hell," she admitted and only then he noticed the dark shadows under her eyes. "I'm tired as hell because I forced myself to stay awake until you brought your sorry behind home safely."

Even before she ended her sentence, he felt like a large weight was being lifted from his shoulders. She could see it too, but still, she continued. "I waited for you because I haven't seen you in almost a week, and we didn't have sex for almost two weeks," she blushed a little, but continued quickly, assuredly, "and I'm nervous, too, you know. You're, " she grappled for words which was odd to look at because she usually had such a way with words, "you're so handsome and funny and always _nice_ and sometimes I wonder if what you feel for me is anything special at all. And sometimes I feel like I see more of your back than your face because you're gone so often—but I understand it, this isn't just your _job_, it isn't an obligation, it's a duty and an honour. It's just hard to accept, sometimes, that you spend more time with Tsuna-san than with me." She breathed out, evenly. There was a hint of steel in her eyes and voice as she continued: "I know that you love me. You know that I love you. It's not okay to be insecure because we don't have a reason to be, do we? We're just having wedding jitters, Takeshi-kun. It's absolutely normal. You're just more of an idiot about it than I am." She grinned weakly when he didn't react. "C'mere," she beckoned.

He obliged and closed the distance between them, kneeing in front of her so that they were almost on eye-level with each other. "You do still love me, right?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah," he answered and pulled her face in for a kiss. "Sorry." He repeated: "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I don't know. I'm just nervous. You're so beautiful. I don't know if I can ever do you justice."

"It's okay," she stroked his cheek slowly, "I don't know if I can ever do you justice, too. Just don't do that again. You almost caused a heart attack. I'm nervous, too."

He sighed and placed a kiss on her collarbone.

"You could wash off the peeling and give me a foot massage. To make amends, you know." Her smile was cheeky.

"I should probably do that, huh?"

She only wriggled her toes in response.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2**: This is basically the old question of "how would a guy handle that Haru declared that she would marry Tsuna for about two thousand times in the past when he, the guy, himself is in a relationship with her?", of course, all jumbled together with the fun I had yesterday in the kitchen myself. Hell yeah, DIY, please! :) It's better for your own health, for your enjoyment, and for your purse! :D

Feedback, as always, would be great!

– bells


	47. postcards

**Title**: hidden spots

**Characters**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 100

**Rating**: K

**Warnings**: none, I guess?

**Prompt**: 9—_connection_

**A/N**: My first … drabble in the original sense of the word :D

* * *

><p><strong>postcards<br>**

_(and text messages)**  
><strong>_

_Dear Takeshi-kun,  
>Paris is incredibly great. I'm enjoying my internship, there's so much to<br>see! _❤

Please pass my greetings on to Tsuna-san and the others!

_xxx, Haru_

_PS: I searched __hours __for a postcard with a baseball stadium.  
>You better be grateful for all the troubles I went through! ;-)<em>

.

.

.

**From:** Yamamoto (_090-1212-2947_)

**To:** Haru (_090-1211-5973_)

_thx for the postcard_

.

.

.

_Yamamoto-san,  
><em>

_Is that all? Considering all the stress I had to go through to write you a  
>postcard over half the globus …<br>Meanie!  
><em>

_(The postcard shows Berlin, btw.)_

.

.

.

**From:** Yamamoto (_090-1212-2947_)

**To:** Haru (_090-1211-5973_)

_Haru,_

_I love you._

* * *

><p>Sorry for the delay—my laptop kind of died and it was annoying and bla. Now, it's hopefully alright again :)<p>

Please don't alert or favourite without reviewing!

— bells

(Also, would you have pegged Haru for a nose-smiley person? :D)


	48. Wechselwirkung

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto, the Varia (Xanxus and his lovely lackeys ;D), Reborn, Tsuna, Haru, David (OC, of no importance whatsoever xD)

**Word count**: 1402

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: AU, cussing (well, what you do expect from the Varia?)

**Prompt**: 36—_reciprocity_

**A/N**: or alternatively named: _in which Yamamoto is the Co-Rain Guardian of the Varia and Haru is a childhood friend of Tsuna who works as Vongola's tax counsellor (pfft, yeah right)_.

Also, this was actually supposed to be much shorter, and with more AUs: like the first one has Yamamoto as a Varia guy, the second one has Haru as part of the Shimon family, and the third has both of them as civilians who get thrown into the Mafia world together. Well. For this drabble collection, that's just too long. But maybe, someday, I'm going to write a one shot with these three alternative universes :)

Oh, and before I forget it: This was inspired by **Imadra Blue**'s story _Amefurikozō, _where Squalo is Tsuna's Guardian and Yamamoto Xanxus'—go read it, it's awesome!

* * *

><p><strong>Wechselwirkung<strong>

.**  
><strong>

_in another universe … _

.

.

.

"They sent a girl this time," Lussuria tells Yamamoto Takeshi in an over-dramatic stage whisper, one evening.

"What does it matter," is Squalo's—Varia's Rain Co-Guardian (don't tell him that in the face, though; in his eyes, he's still the only fucking Rain Guardian of the Varia, VOI)—input, "woman or man, the Vongola have gone fucking wimpy with that new leader of theirs." (At least you can't accuse him of being sexist, Lussuria thinks.) "You know, whatshisname, whathisface."

These days, Yamamoto usually hides his grin behind a cough because a) Squalo always takes him smiling personal, and b) because his smile is too friendly for the Mafia. Lussuria makes a _tsk_-sound and thinks haughtily, _does he think hiding his smile could really hide his personality?_

"His name is Sawada Tsunayoshi," he offers instead. "How can you forget that, boss fought against him in _that _battle."

Yamamoto never prods when it's about this topic. Lussuria thinks it's part because he simply doesn't care that much about things in the past, but also part because he knows what things his fellow Varia Guardians and his boss react especially sensitive to (mostly, stealing their booze, but also the tenth Don of Vongola, and the Battle of the Rings).

"So, what does this girl do, exactly?" Yamamoto asks finally.

"Dunno." Squalo scowls in his general direction (it's become an auto-mechanism after three years of sharing his title with the dark-haired swordsman).

"Ok_ay_ …" Yamamoto stretches the vowel and scratches his head in confusion. "So, why do we care so much that she's going to come here?"

Lussuria knows his smile looks a little like a Cheshire cat's in moments like this, but he can't help himself, he really can't.

"We never know because we eliminate them before they can tell us what they were sent to do," says a new voice in the door: It's Mammon with Bel and Levi—and now, the Round Table (of Crazy People, Lussuria must admit) is complete.

Yamamoto Takeshi shrugs his shoulders with his hands behind his head, tips his chair off the floor, and, rocking backwards and forwards, he says: "As long as I don't have to kill her …"

—

"You are _really_ sure you want to do that," the young Vongola Decimo asks again (for the maybe fourteenth time), pacing in front of the young woman as she gets wired, bullet-proofed and instructed by a group of four people all scurrying around her.

Signorina Haru Miura, as David remembers her name is, seems to supress the urge to roll her eyes at her old friend. "Of course I'm sure, Tsuna-san. It's going to be _perfectly _all right, okay? Now, be a good boy, don't wet your pants and go wrap your birthday present for Kyouko-chan."

She makes shooing motions until he gets the point and leaves the room, and sighs a "Hahi."

As she tucks the pistol into her coat pocket, she catches his eye. David smiles shyly and shrugs as he says: "Are you really sure that it will go well?"

Signorina Haru considers the question while she lets her hair loose and finger-combs it a little. "Well—I honestly don't understand why everyone is making such a fuss about me visiting the Varia. I mean … I can speak Italian fluently, I don't think I ever made any of them angry at me … since I haven't met them, ever, and I'm only doing this season's accounting. I have nothing threatening to my position. I bet it's going to go smoothly." She smiles confidently but David is not convinced. "It would go smoothly if logic would apply to them," he mutters under his breath while he checks her headphones one last time, but when Signorina Haru asks, "Hahi? What did you say?" he just shrugs and answers: "It's nothing, you're right. It's going to be fine …"

And maybe, David thinks, it's better for her to stay that innocent … and stupid.

—

Mukuro-san, one of Tsuna-san's closer friends, accompanies her almost to the gates of the mansion-that-looks-like-a-castle, makes that funny "Ufufu"-sound he so likes to make, and, with a swift (and quite sardonic) bow, leaves her to her own devices.

_Weirdo_, she thinks in that characteristic, fond way of hers that most people in her surrounding find disconcerting.

She has resigned to the fact that most people think _she's_ the weird one, but since she knows the truth, namely that there are _tons_ of people a _lot_ weirder than she could ever hope to be, it's okay with her.

As she continues musing about weirdness in general and her weirdness in particular, she comes closer and closer to the Varia's HQ.

She wonders a little bit about all those land mines in the park, shakes her head at the piranhas in the pond she has to cross via the half-rotten wooden bridge, and groans a little at the wanna-be ninjas hiding behind bushes, trees and distribution boxes. The Varia, she decides, _really_ need a change of charge of finances, ASAP. It can_not _be okay to throw money down the drain (literally) for expensive ninja actors and piranhas, and not take care of old facility and haywire gardeners who don't even see land mines when they're in front of their noses.

She clicks her tongue as she knocks on the door of the mansion for the umpteenth time and adds this to her mental lists of things the Varia have to change, _pronto. _

"Okay, whatever!" she says to no one in particular, "if no one wants to open the door for a lady, then fine! Hahi!" and enters.

(She doesn't see the trail of destruction that she left all over the area.)

—

"She _needs_ to be recruited, Tsuna," Reborn says with his eyes glued to the dozen monitors that all show various angles of Varia's HQ.

"Nooooo," Tsuna wails (manly, of course, and in a very respect-inducing manner), "she's civilian and I want it to _stay that way_! It's bad enough that she's ours and all our allies' tax counsellor!"

Reborn shrugs, undisturbed, and states: "She does her job well." Which is kind of a big compliment coming out of the mouth of the Mafia's strongest hitman. "And we have to recruit her—before another Family gets her, Tsuna. Have you seen how she waltzed through that minefield? That's _genius_."

Tsuna doesn't listen to him, too transfixed with the events playing out on monitor 12.

"Did she really just poke _Levi _and _Bel_ in the eye with her _umbrella_?" He almost speaks to himself right now.

"Unintentionally, to top it. Do you really want to know what she can do when she _wants _to do damage _and is in a rival Family_?" Reborn sticks to his guns.

"_Does she really reprimand _Squalo _about taking his shoes off in the house?!_" Tsuna shrieks over Reborn's words and Haru's chatter and Squalo's blow-up and the usual chaos that is Xanxus' Guardians through the loudspeakers.

Then he faints.

"Does she really flirt with Yamamoto right now?" Reborn murmurs for the sake of continuity and wishes he had some popcorn with him.

—

"HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN, YOU LITTLE SHITS." Xanxus says when he comes back from his mission with Hibari Kyouya. "I LEAVE FOR ONE FUCKING DAY AND COME BACK TO THIS FUCKING SCRAP HEAP FOR FUCKS SAKE."

"To be honest, it wasn't _entirely_ our fault," Lussuria, one of the few unscathed Varia members, says. "You see, boss, there was this girl, sent from the Vongola, and we did … the usual." He clears his throat uncomfortably. "Only, it didn't _work _like usual."

"**ONE. FUCKING. GIRL!?**"

Then, Yamamoto comes rushing, laughing breathlessly while Squalo is close on his heels: "VOI, WAIT UP, DICKHEAD!"

Xanxus just stares at them, then turns back to Lussuria and snarls.

"VOI WHY DID YOU HELP HER ESCAPE?"

"Haha, what are you talking about?"

"SHE WAS _THIS _CLOSE AND **YOU **LET HER ESCAPE!"

"I don't," he is almost doubled over with laughter, "don't know what you mean …"

Eerily quiet, Xanxus asks: "How long did we need until they acted civil with each other."

Lussuria sighs. "Almost a year, boss."

"How many bottles of my scotch got broken during that time."

"Almost one hundred …"

"Why."

"Well, boss," Lussuria cringes as he hears something break somewhere down the corridor, "I think … Yamamoto's got a crush on that girl."

* * *

><p>Haru is kicks ass with obliviousness, hell yeah! :D And I just love Squalo's relationship with Yamamoto. So much fun :)<p>

Wechselwirkung means … something kind of like reciprocity, only not exactly, and I like the word just a lot :)

Reviews are puff pastries and Sicilian almond paste with brioche for lunch. Ahh, I want to go to Sicily again. So much ❤


	49. you're the pebble in my shoe

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: OCs (Mouri Tamiko, Hyuuga Taiki, Taco and Yamato), Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 2160

**Rating**: T for four-letter words

**Warnings**: OCs; _could _be related with CH 39—another point of view, but can be read as a stand-alone piece, too.

**Prompt**: 59—_stone_

**A/N 1**: This _really _went out of hand. _How_ did it get so long? Man. This ain't no drabble collection no more. (I feel so phony whenever I try colloquial-ing my English xD)

**A/N 2**: Though not my most favourite trope/cliché, I do like some romantic tension between two best friends, hihi.

* * *

><p><strong>you're the pebble to my shoe<br>**.**  
><strong>_(girl, you annoy me so much)  
><em>

Miura Haru was weird.  
>Really, <em>really <em>weird.

And it bugged the_ hell_ out of Mouri Tamiko.

"Why do you make such a big deal out of it?" Hyuuga Taiki asked after taking a last drag of his cigarette. She rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't make a 'big deal of it', Tai!"

"Oh, but you do, Tami-_chan_," he said teasingly, grinding the cigarette with his toecap. "Is that Miura gal really so bad?"

"Uh, _yes_? She's so … _aggravating_! She … she cosplays—and isn't that _so_ 2012?—and she always says 'desu' and 'hahi' … and–… and doesn't she realise she isn't a _baby_ anymore? She sure acts like it! Ugh, I wish I could punch her in her ugly nose!"

Taiki sighed, knowing when to just shut up with his best friend. If Tami decided to not like someone, she was loud enough to say so, and stubborn enough to insist on that opinion, whether she was right nor not (whether she _knew_ she was right or not). She was lovely and annoying like that.

"She's like—like pebble in my super-cute stylish new boots and I _hate_ her," Tami finished with a passion. (He had the sudden urge to be kissed just like that.) He sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll treat you to some ice cream to cool you off, yeah?"

She pondered over that proposal for a few moments, dramatically twirling her non-existent moustache, then grinned: "Ice cream it is!"

–

"Oi, Taiki, have you heard? Our class trip next week is co-ed!" Yamato grinned like someone had told him heaven was girls in tiny bikinis and red meat for free. Taiki shook his head, amused. "Aaaaaand—it's to the new waterpark!"

"How cool is that, right?" Taco—Takumi Kou—added. "I mean, yeah, the Midori High girls can be a little uptight … but they're fit birds, right?" He waggled with his eyebrows.

Taiki sighed: "I don't know why I even spend time with you. We're seniors, we should act it."

"We're a boys-only school—what do ya expect of us? Just 'cause you little masochist enjoy running after Tami-chan doesn't mean we all have to live like an abstainer."

"I don't 'run after her'," he argued (weakly). "She's just a friend. A girl. Friend. My best one, if I think hard about it."

Yamato and Taco didn't even have the grace to act like they were wounded. Instead, one said: "Yeah, sure, your 'friend'." And the other added: "A friend he'd like to bang." Without looking at each other, they high-fived.

"Fuck off," he grumbled (but on the other hand, they _were_ kinda right …).

–

On the day of their class trip, it was swelteringly hot. Taiki was glad that once in a lifetime, the teachers had listened to common sense and agreed to their trip to the water park—and _maybe _theyshould also thank their charismatic hell of a student council president. (Or maybe not, Taiki had a reputation to uphold, and also, pres was kind of a douche.)

They met the girls of Midori High in front of the park—sixty chattering, giggling girls from a poncey private school. Taiki could imagine nicer things for a whole day. His two friends beside him seemed on cloud nine.

_Tami spoiled me for other girls …_ He ran a hand through his hair as he watched them disinterestedly. Well, some of them _were_ pretty.

–

After two or three hours of swimming, water-sliding, sunning, and other things done in a water park, Taiki was kind of exhausted.

"I'm gonna buy something to drink … you want something too?"

Yamato and Taco just waved him off in bliss as they continued ogling three particularly pretty girls who played with a beach ball.

He made his way through the park pretty well—no stepping on other peoples' feet, towels or boobs, but shortly before he reached the kiosk, he bumped into a someone.

"Oh, sorry!"

"I didn't mean to …" they said simultaneously. Then, they grinned and each stepped back a step. It was a girl, obviously (he seemed to be a magnet for overused clichés), with chestnut brown hair and a dainty nose. She wore a thin hooded jumper over her bikini (navy blue with white ribbon motifs_**, **_surprisingly cute) and rubbed her arms as if she felt cold.

"Sorry," he repeated.

"It's fine," she said with a small smile. With that, the encounter should have ended, but—no, of course not. They both started to walk again—both in the direction of the kiosk and vending machines.

There was a pause filled with awkwardness, but then the tension left her shoulders and she grinned a little. She had dimples, he noticed. (It was probably because he was an aspiring artist that he noticed it, not because she was cute or anything.) "I'll treat you to a drink?"

"Sure," he shrugged, "why not."

—

The girl, Haru, was, coincidentally, one of the Midori students, and also very easy to talk to. Somehow, she reminded him of a more tired … sadder version of Tami.

Which was exactly why, in the course of not even 90 minutes, he had spilled his heart's contents to her.

Her verdict was: "You should go for it, Taiki-san." Before he could object, she continued: "Do it, Taiki-san. Do it now, before it's too late. Even—even if you're hurt in the end, even if your friendship will be awkward for a while, you still should do it. If you're really best friends, then this will only strengthen that relationship in the end. If you're supposed to be a couple, then that's what's going to happen. But you can't just suppress these feelings forever. You can't stay in this … limbo forever. It's exhausting."

"You seem to speak out of experience, Haru-san."

She shrugged: "There was this boy … I fell in love with him—I even said I would marry him," she raised a brow as he snorted, "but he was in love with someone else. My best friend. Maybe it would have been easier for the three of us if I hadn't confessed to the boy—but I just couldn't. These were my precious feelings and I at least wanted him to know that I had them, right? If you don't try, you'll never know what can happen."

Before they could continue their conversation, Yamato and Taco approached them, waving from afar: "_OI_, TAI!"  
>The glares his friends sent him were quite obvious. Something along the lines of, <em>where did you find <em>that_ babe?_ And, _wanted to hide her from us, eh?_

He just grinned. "Haru-san, that's Yamato, and that's Taco."

"Nice to meet you," she said, standing up and bowing a little. Huh. Polite one.

After that, everything went quite smoothly. Haru, for all that she went to a renowned private girls-only school, bowed when she met someone new, and used quite the polite speech patterns, seemed to get along with teenage boys famously—in that older-sisterly, mothering way. They suddenly seemed to forget that she was a _girl_, a possible love interest—she had totally turned off all her femininity, at will. It was weird, in a fascinating way.

–

As Taco and Yamato waved goodbye and cycledaway on their bicycles, Haru and Taiki turned towards each other and said, again simultaneously: "I have to take the bus line 5. You?"

Haru shook her head in disbelief: "This is strange. Are you stalking me?"

"Are _you_ stalking _me_, is the better question!" Taiki replied, grinning. "No, seriously. I'm supposed to meet Tami."

She smiled knowlingly and said, "Well, then we can go together."

In the bus, they exchanged mobile phone numbers and promised to befriend each other on _nosebook_.

By chance, they got off at the same stop, and, again, by chance, they had to walk in the same direction. "This is fate, I swear. _Weird_ fate, but fate nonetheless," Taiki commented. But then, when they turned into the same street.

"Where _does _Tami-san live, Taiki-san?" Haru inquired ultimately.

"It's this street here … I always forget the name … and the number is 34."

"Oh," Haru uttered, "I'm in number 39."

"Then—you liveacross from her?"

Before they could make fun or laugh at—or be weirded out by this crazy circumstances, Haru went rigid next to him. Tension rose in the air. "Um. Taiki-san. Could, I, um, hide with you? Just for a few minutes."

Confusedly, he said, "Yeah, sure. You can … uh, come in. I'm sure Tami won't mind …"  
>"Thanks. You're a lifesaver." She smiled but it was strained. Her eyes were trained on her own house where some guy sat on the front porch.<p>

Then, he rang the doorbell of Tami's house. They waited only a few seconds, then Tami opened the front door with a flourish. "Took you long enough, Tai! I waited—" She trailed off midway when she noticed Haru next to him—"_You_," she spat out.

"M-mouri-san?" Haru stuttered. Both girls threw _him _incredulous looks.

"_What_ are you doing with _her_?! _Why_ are you bringing _Miura _to _my _house?!"

"Um." Taiki was, obviously, at a loss for words. Miura—was Haru?

"Haru?" came now from the other direction. The dude who had sat in front of Haru's house before had approached them with long steps. He looked even more tired than her—he looked _exhausted_, like all his life had been drained from him. Taiki was good at watching people, _seeing_people because of his want-to-be profession, so he realised how weird this boy looked. Much too pale, much too shaky, much too dull. It didn't fit his height and his features. He should be good-looking. Bright. "Haru."

"I told you I didn't want to talk with you," Haru said, tempered, coldly.

She was so different from the girl Tami had described in all her rants. He had never thought of connecting that neighbourhood girl who Tami was so annoyed with with the girl he met on this trip.  
>Tami, too, seemed a little surprised at the tone she struck.<p>

"I don't want to hear _any _of it, Takeshi-kun," she said quietly, then pulled him a little away from him and Tami. They shared a look, nodded, and started straining their ears to hear the conversation.

"I'm _sick_ and tired of it, Takeshi-kun. All of it. I just _can't_." Her voice broke. "This has to stop. You have to stop hurting yourself."

"Haru …"

"No, you don't get to run away from it anymore. Montefioralle _wasn't _your fault, and you have to accept that and you have to stop punishing yourself for what happened there. Takeshi-kun." She brushed a hand over her eyes. "I love you. I care for you. We _all _do. So, _please _…"

"I'm sorry," Takeshi-guy said and pulled her into a hug, "I didn't want to worry you. I spoke with Tsuna and the others a few hours ago."

She nodded into his chest. "And Shigure Kintoki? Kojiro and Jiro?"

"I spoke with Oyaji and he … punched some sense into me, I guess." He grinned weakly.

There, she let go of him and smiled gingerly: "Thank goodness."

As if realising that _maybe_ they still had watchers, they both turned around towards Taiki and Tami.

"I'm sorry for the scene," Haru said, bowing deeply. "We better be going, ne, Takeshi-kun?" He nodded. "Goodbye, Taiki-san … Mouri-san …" She looked a little hesitant as she added Tami's name, but still she smiled with an ease that hadn't been there before. _Good luck_, she mouthed at him. Then, they were off, though not in the direction of her home, but back to the bus station.

When they were out of earshot, Tami turned towards him, smiling stonily. "What. Is. This. Supposed. To. Mean."

"Well." Taiki pulled out his cigarettes, reconsidered, and stuffed them away again. "I honestly don't know about that last part. But I met Haru-san on our field day today."

"And you got along."

"In my defence, I must say that she didn't say 'hahi' once," he said weakly. "Was I supposed to hate her because you do even though I didn't know that it was her?"

Tami sighed. "Well. No." She looked at him inquiringly. "Was she really _tolerable_? I mean, I always want to cut my ears off whenever some neighbour has a cook-out Kaa-chan forces me to go to and I meet her there. I mean, wasn't she _weird_ at all? She can speak Italian! If that isn't weird, then I don't know what is."

Taiki grinned. "She kinda reminded me of you, actually."

"Oh. Really."

"Yeah."

"Well," she said, slumping her shoulders a little in defeat, "she _was_ pretty serious with that guy. Do _you_ know what it was about? It was all Greek to me."

He shook his head no. As he looked at her, he realised again how pretty she was—even in a ratty band shirt and cotton leggings. "Hey, Tami … I need to tell you something."

"Oh," she answered smilingly, "what is it?"

* * *

><p>I think I haven't said anything about it yet, but I like that fanfictionnet now shows not only number of reviews, but also favourites and alerts. I just feel so bad whenever I see a story with less favouritesalerts than reviews. That's just stupid and sad for the writer. Since fanfictionnet did that change, I reviewed a lot more stories.

(Yeah, that was my backhanded way of saying, "Please, alerters and favourisers (?), review!")

Love,

bells

EDIT: After rereading, I am SO dissatisfied with the second half of this drabble. I guess, after everything' said and done, I'll rewrite this from scratch. Sigh.


	50. chime

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru (Gokudera Hayato, Kurokawa Hana, all the other people)

**Word count**: 880

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**: Fluffy!Romantic!wedding-overdose (maybe).

**Prompt**: 62—_chime_

**A/N 1**: I've never been to Paris, actually, and I know it's clichéd and all—but the day I wrote this it was just such a beautiful summer day (sunny and warm without being sweltry first, then pouring and thundering, then a beautiful sunset with only a few fleecy clouds) and I thought of a park in Paris—and this almost wrote it on its own.

Thanks a lot for the continued support (btw, I think it's kind of assuming that that's shown whenever you post a review xD). Really, I'm so glad that there are people out there who like what I write about Haru and Yamamoto! (Yes, I'm getting mushy. Shush, it's just the mood of the drabble, I'm sorry.)

* * *

><p><strong>chime<br>**

On a vacation slash the annual summer PR campaign that Haru manages for Vongola because she is good with things like that (and because guns can be so much heavier than words), they walk through a park in France, Paris to be exact—and it's exactly five o'clock in the afternoon—church bells are chiming—when Yamamoto says: "Hey, let's get married."

And it's not exactly how Miura Haru imagined it to be  
>—with fourteen, she would have wished for the classic, but romantic approach with red roses and a candle-lit dinner, with twenty-four she would have wished for a quick kiss in-between two of his life-or-death missions—<br>but here, in this foreign country, he kisses her like he is a boy again, young and impetuous, in this foreign country, where people speak so strangely, so beautifully, and where she feels her heart beat in a peregrine, fierce she has not felt in a long, long time–…

Haru smiles and her heart is in it.

Before she can give him an answer or even truly acknowledge what he has proposed, he tugs her towards a flower booth and buys her a spray of Lisianthus flowers. "Actually," she corrects him, one hand clasped tightly with his, the other holding the bouquet close to her heart as they continue their walk, "their correct name is Eustoma, derived from the Ancient Greek εὐ and στόμα."

He grins at her, teasing her with a good-natured "Smartypants" and a kiss on the temple, and she shrugs her shoulders and says, smiling, that they're her favourite flowers (it wasn't true before he gave her this bouquet that shimmers softly in hues of blue and pink and cream, but suddenly the bright red poppies she favoured since her sixteenth birthday have paled in comparison).

"So?" He asks and presses a kiss to the knuckles of the hand still interlaced with his, and it's … the perfect mixture of nonchalance and romance and casualness and earnestness, so she kisses him firmly and decides: "Yes, let's get married."

—

Exactly one hour later (Haru and Yamamoto can tell because the bells are chiming again, only quieter this time because they've walked quite a distance) Gokudera Hayato and Kurokawa Hana are ringed out of their beds in Japan, Namimori and Sicily, Taormina respectively—no comment about Gokudera's sleeping habits.

Haru speaks with Gokudera because, _duh_, _I want my fiancé alive for the wedding_, and Yamamoto handles Hana because they're both blunt in their own wys.

In the end, both conversations are essentially the same ("We're going to marry tomorrow in Paris, tell the Family." – "_**What **_did you just say?!" – "I'll message you the address and everything." – "What are you _talking _about, you _can't _just-" – "Are you coming or are you not?" – "Of course we're coming. Idiot. Bye."), just that Haru's follows the principle of _the louder you speak, the heavier you insult, the more you love_, and Yamamoto's is exactly as above quoted.

—

It's in Paris when they find themselves on firm ground again. They don't fall in love with each other all over again, no, but they realise again _that_ they're in love (sometimes, a couple just needs that reminder).

It's in Paris and they're just Haru and Takeshi, a woman and a man who love each other deeply, just a couple marrying on a rainy July day  
>—it's pouring, it really is, with lightning and thunder and <em>hail<em> (the weather is crazy this year) and all their guests (Haru's dad and Yamamoto's dad and—well, the whole Vongola Family …) have smug grins on their faces. "You really deserve that shitty weather. Karma doesn't like hurried weddings," Bianchi says with pleasure, straightening her perfectly yellow cocktail dress ("Yellow_! You decide to marry on a whim and _I_ have to wear yellow_?!"), and about _ten _people nod vigorously, but Haru and Yamamoto just shrug it off, grinning, because it is their _wedding _day and it's beautiful no matter what, and eventually, even the unromantic, annoyed participants of the event decide that it's quite an okay wedding, for such short notice.

(The more enthusiastic attendants swear it's the _best _wedding ever, but maybe that's just Ryohei and the emptied champagne bottle speaking …)

—

On her wedding day, Miura Haru wears a white dress that isn't quite a simple wedding dress, nor an exquisite summer dress ("You're stunning," the groom whispers into the bride's ear a few minutes before the ceremony starts); the wedding cake is Namimori-imported thanks to Yamamoto Tsuyoshi (She laughs lightly, breathlessly: "You taste like vanilla and raspberries"); and a couple finally gets together ("Yeah, we're great matchmakers, but _stop _talking right now, I swear …").

On her wedding day, Miura Haru wears a Lisianthus blossom in her hair, a gold band on her left ring finger and her love for Yamamoto Takeshi like a second skin.

When he promises her that he will try to make her happy every day, she kisses him silent, warm and familiar and still exciting, and says, "I just want you to love me every day."

For a moment, he looks startled, but then, his mouth curves into a bright smile and his eyes glow, warm. "I have," he says, "and I will."

And she knows, she will, too.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: **This can be read as a continuation of CH 35—children, which would explain the (to say it casually) "man, I needed that vacation pretty damn much" atmosphere of Yamamoto and Haru.

**A/N 3:** I love flowers, I really do, and I had a really hard time choosing the flowers Yamamoto would give Haru as well as Haru's former favourite flower, but Eustoma/Lisianthus is truly beautiful. I kind of fell in love with that flower during research.

Poppies (they're called Klatschmohn in German, btw, and you also use it as an idiom, like "Girl, you're red like poppies!/Mädchen, du bist ja rot wie Klatschmohn!") are awesome as well.

(What is your favourite flower?)

Reviews are crazy-hurried fairy tale weddings :)

– bells


	51. passions run

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi

**Word count**: 634

**Rating**: M to be safe

**Warnings**: horny!Yamamoto.

**Prompt**: 8—_passions run _

**A/N 1**: Do people understand that, when in an autumn/winter setting, I'm talking about a 'hat', I mean a wool hat and not one of those stiff hats? XD I really don't know how else to call them … there're times when I painfully notice that English will always be only my second language.

**A/N 2**: This was supposed to be more about baseball (but no less about frustrated Yamamoto). But well, you take what you get, right? And my muse is a fickle thing, so … ^_^

* * *

><p><strong>passions run<strong>

People say sport makes horny. The released endorphins, the feeling of competition with other guys … all that stuff.

In this case, _people _are right. Because he is. Horny, that is.

It doesn't help that his stunning girlfriend was so kind to pick him up from his baseball game (which means that, on their way home, he can touch her hand, and kiss her modestly, and look at her in all her glory when he knows he can't have her, even if he wants her, _right fucking now_).

He tries not to touch her at all because that's just torture. But _Haru_—Haru's all touchey-touchey, kissing him hello in happy bliss, twiddling with his shirt collar, linking arms with him, pressing her hip against his side. Her fingers are cool from the autumn wind, which adds to the (questionable …) pleasure of feeling like he's going to combust.

He tries not to look at her, too—but she's so cheerful today, and her skirt flares and sways, a little with the wind but mostly because of the movement of her hips, and she wears the scarf he bought her last Christmas, and she's just so, so pretty.

Her cheeks are a little flushed from the wind, and the tips of her ears are red. "Did you forget your wool hat, Haru?" He asks in an attempt to draw his attention away from her body. But honestly, it doesn't work at all, and now he just wants to take her earlobe in his mouth. _God damn_.

"Eh?" She looks at him with her head cocked, and he realises, well, probably he interrupted her with that nonsensical sentence that didn't even do the trick. She smiles: "I wanted to take the car but then I forgot that I'd have to refuel, and I didn't have enough money with me. Yes, I know, I should always have some cash with me, you told me often enough—I just forgot, okay? I'm sorry." But _she _doesn't sound apologetic at all, and _he _can't seem to care at all.

They walk the rest of the way in (_more or less, you randy idiot_) comfortable silence. Haru hums a little tune under her breath, something happy and sweet and _Haru_, and that kind of helps with that urge to get her naked.

—

They enter Takesushi, and Oyaji gives them a rushed, cheerful _Okaeri__, Takeshi, Haru-chan_. It's 7:30 PM, and Oyaji, Takuya, his trainee, and waitress Kikio-san are busy with work.

Haru bows to Oyaji, says _Tadaima_, asks if they need a helping hand—but Oyaji, the thoughtful man he is, turns it down and shoos them up to the flat.

He breathes out in relief when they finally reach his old childhood room that he only ever sees when he visits Namimori and doesn't sleep in the Vongola Base (which doesn't happen that often). Haru throws him a look, amused smile stretching her mouth, but before she can say anything, he locks the door behind him and pulls her close for a searing kiss.

The first kiss leaves her with enough air for a giggle, but the second makes her squeeze her eyes shut and rake her fingers through his hair, and after the third, she presses her lips against his collarbone and breathes shallowly.

"You little minx," he says as she struggles to doff his jacket and shirt while he unclasps her bra. "You _know_ how I get after a game …"

She laughs quietly, breathy, and continues with her task while ensconcing herself in his lap. And then, she says, "But you're so cute when you're horny," and kisses the protest off his mouth.

—

Later on, he will wonder if that means that she did all that _on purpose_, that wench, but right now? He doesn't give a shit.

* * *

><p>Reviews are Yamamoto getting his revenge? xD<p>

- bells


	52. about subtleties and animal bites

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru,

**Word count**: 1490

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: None.

**Prompt**: 11—_animal_

**A/N 1**: Thanks so much for the reviews ❤ I'd love to hear what you think about this one as well :)

**A/N 2**: Chiavarone or Cavallone?

* * *

><p>During one particularly long time of nothing-to-do for the Vongola in the summer of 2032, Miura Haru came up with a plan. It was a plan that would fit the mindset of middle school Haru—or Lambo's when he was twelve—but it was nothing that really bore the usual hallmarks of 36-year-old Haru who nowadays talked more about cleaning agents for guns than wedding kimonos.<p>

But she came in with that air of self-confidence that she had groomed over the years (they all had, in one way or other, even though most of Sawada Tsunayoshi's Family hadn't really realised it yet)—that tilt of the head and swish of shiny chestnut-brown hair that made people look up and listen to her. Dino, tenth Don of the Cavallone, sighed and grinned simultaneously, wondering once again how much of the world Vongola could—without anyone realising it—reign under the public relations machine that was Yamamoto Takeshi and Miura Haru.

He was just glad that they were allies.

"Box animals," she began. She held a black fountain pen in both hands as she presented her idea but she didn't twiddle it like she would have done a decade ago. Yamamoto leaned a few feet away from her against the door, as if saying that they wouldn't get out of the room before they had listened to her plan _and_ given their consent. _Which might highly possibly be so_.  
>He smiled unapologetically as he noticed Dino's eyes on him but shortly thereafter his gaze was pulled to Haru again. "The revelation was three months ago and we still haven't done anything to repair our image. The world doesn't know what to make of them and after that long reportage Smith did on them <em>and <em>Verde who has always been seen as an associate to the Vongola—and therefore the Cavallone and other allied Famiglias—, we have to do something about it. I said that years ago—that it would've been better for us to tell the world than let them find out but it's too late for that now and you gentlemen have absolutely no excuse to not tackle that problem this summer. It's not like we have anything better to do anyway." Then, Haru actuated a Power Point presentation about the innumerable benefits of, basically, starting a petting zoo with all the D- or lower-levelled box animals that had no use or owner right now.

—

Three hours, 25 minutes, four pots of coffee and seven trays of confection later, Tsuna said with a big sigh: "Well then, that was all—_right_?" The last word carried an air of desperation. Selena Desmarais, one of Vongola Tenth's most trusted consultants, laughed very quietly behind her hand. Kusakabe Tetsuya, second-in-command of the Foundation, grinned while discreetly massaging an acupressure spot on his hand.

Haru blinked at her old friend innocently (a look that hadn't worn off in the over twenty years they had known each other) and said with relish: "If everyone is in agreement with the amended plan, then, yes, I guess we're finished."

"Then …" Tsuna breathed out, "this meeting is over."

Haru smiled victoriously and started to power down her laptop with light fingers, humming under her breath, while all the higher members of the PR team, as well as Decimo's advisers and part of his Guardians (Mist as it was usually responsible for that kind of work, and Lightning because someone _had _to have an eye on Lambo during his much-too-early mid-life crisis) left the room as fast as they could and as slowly as the had to. As Lambo exited the room, Yamamoto and he high-fived and shared a grin. On his way out, the tenth Vongola Don let Haru kiss his cheek warmly and let Yamamoto put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Both actions expressed a kind of content sadness, an apology that was heartfelt, but mostly the belief that they did the right thing.

In the end, only Haru, Takeshi, Dino and Selena remained in the conference room.

Haru poured herself a glass of perfectly cooled white wine, and looked around as if asking if someone wanted a glass too. Only Selena nodded and accepted the wine gratefully. Haru nipped at it while Dino gave a tired Enzo a snack.

It was Takeshi who, advancing closer to the table and settling next to Haru, broke the silence: "Sorry."

Haru smiled at him in that soft, gentle way that nowadays was reserved for only a few selected people.

Selena sighed quietly and gulped down the rest of the wine.

"We would have talked with you about this before-hand but the less people knew, the better. Tsuna wouldn't have been caught off-guard if we had told you two."

"You're right," Dino acknowledged, furrow between his brows. "You do know that Hayato will kill you when he comes back from Australia."

"That would be the just punishment," Haru interfered. "We really hurt Tsuna-san today. We did it on purpose. We're not sorry for it. Of course Gokudera-kun will kill us." Her forefinger followed the rim of her wineglass while she spoke. "But someone had to do _something_. Tsuna-san can't stay afraid forever. It's not healthy. If _he _is afraid, how can he expect Kyouko-chan and Mila-chan to _not _be afraid? He has to heal—so that his family can heal. He knows that as well as we do. He just doesn't act on it."

"So … I guess I'll call Verde. We have to speak with him before we can get to our plans, right?"

"Yes, Selena." Takeshi nodded. "Dino …"

The Cavallone boss sighed: "Sure, I'm gonna take care of the problem child."

"Thanks," he said, and it was nothing short of a dismissal.

Selena raised an eyebrow, but Dino threw a glance at Haru, shrugged his shoulders, "Sure, why not. You are the PR people," and left the room, Selena in tow.

* * *

><p>"You did the right thing," Yamamoto finally said after what felt like an eternity. Haru smiled at him, and let him pull her into a comforting hug.<p>

"I'll have to call Kyouko-chan, Takeshi-kun," she murmured into his dress shirt. "Kami-sama. I'll have to tell her. Do you really think it was a good idea to–… I mean–"

"It'll work out." He let go of her with a wistful smile. "I mean, it _is_ your idea. And you know how good those always are." His voice was teasing now. She smiled.

"I trust you," she said (when in another life she would have said _I love you_, but it was as dearly treasured as if it were those words she said), and Yamamoto Takeshi nodded**.**

* * *

><p>"Do they really think they're being subtle here?" Selena wondered to herself.<p>

"I think they don't care as much about discretion as they think they do," Dino answered slowly.

"So, I know that I'm not _that _well-acquainted with them after only two or three years, but … why aren't they married yet, again? I really don't see the point. They're like a married couple, only without PDA and a wedding certificate."

"They," the way he said the word, Selena knew that he meant the inner circle of the Vongola Tenth Generation—the Guardians, Decimo, and surprisingly many civilians, "don't talk about it. It's like … one of those topics they never approach, you know?"  
>And Selena did now. They were these—<em>things <em>that made the Guardians look shifty, or even angry, some that evoked wry smiles, and some that caused nothing: only blank eyes and empty faces.

The relationship between the Rain Guardian and Miura Haru was one of them, others were that mysterious person Byakuran, or Xanxus' relationship with both Nono and Decimo.

"When we were younger, you wouldn't have recognised Haru. She was bubbly and carefree and pretty silly. And she was madly in love with Tsuna."

Selena looked incredulous. "_Decimo_?"

"Yeah," Dino grinned. Then, he continued serious again: "Something happened. Takeshi and Haru started going out when they were in their early twenties. On the way to one of their dates, they got kidnapped by some Yakuza psychopath who … really hated the Vongola." He ran a hand through his gelled-back hair, messing it up. "It was bad. Even for our standards." He sighed as if to shake off the memories. "After that, he broke up with her. Or, she made him break up with her. No one really knows." He gazed at her and smiled a little. "That's the end of the story. They never got together again. No one talks about it. I don't know how much Tsuna or Kyouko or Hayato know."

"God," Selena murmured, "I'm so sorry."

Dino smiled, "But they seem happy, right? And if they're happy after all that, it's going to be fine, right?"

* * *

><p>"I'm so glad I met you," she whispered and pressed a kiss against his cheek before she left the room, hands curled around her laptop case.<p>

"I love you too," he said to the empty room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 3**: Okay, here some context: Tsuna's and Kyouko's youngest daughter Mila got pretty seriously hurt by a Box Animal. Tsuna, typical wuss that we love so much, panicked and stopped using Natsu during a mission which caused casualties for the Vongola as a whole. After some time (which Kyouko and Mila spend in a rehabilitation facility), Haru and Yamamoto take matters in hand.  
>Or something like that.<br>I actually just really liked the idea of Haru not marrying Yamamoto for matters not really known but then it turned sadder somehow, and well yes. I also have a prequel-thing written now. Which is also sad. Look forward to that too (hihi)!

– bells

**edit**: it's edited. At least a little bit. Also, there's really that acupressure spot between your thumb and pointer finger, and if you press it just so with your other hand - it hurts like a bitch and frees you of even horrible headaches. It doesn't _always_ help, sadly - but whenever I don't have any peppermint oil with me, I use that neat trick. Trust me, try it out. This comes from a regular victim of Horrible Headaches.


	53. still, breathing

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 1243

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: sad things. Not fluffy at all. Prequel to CH 52—_animal_.

**Prompt**: 35—_hunger_

**A/N**: Hm. Exposition for the last chapter.

**A/N 2**: I'm so tired. So, so tired. And here, it's 7 PM right now, so I really shouldn't be. _But_, I started my voluntary social year this week, and I'm working in a hospital, in the Integrative Psychiatry ward. It's honestly amazing. Very, very much so :)  
>Still, it is strenuous work—and this week, I had the morning shift (from 6:45 to 15:00—which means I have to wake up at 5 AM. Oh, harsh, harsh world). Which made me tired, I notice. Sadly, my muse decided to get active right now but I never have to the time to right. That's so typical …<p>

I know, no one cares ...

Sigh. (xD) Signing off,

bells

**edit**: It's edited! Also, I'm sorry for my sloppiness the last few chapters. I was clearly a little too tired that last round of proof-reading :)

* * *

><p><strong>still, breathing<br>**_we're barely hanging in there, don't you see it?_

"I'm hungry," Yamamoto remarks matter-of-factly.

"Hahi, you'll have to wait a little more."

"Did I tell you that I haven't eaten anything since breakfast? And it's almost midnight now."

"Which makes it even more _weird_ that you've come here! I have classes tomorrow, you know! Important classes. Exams are coming up and I have to have _top _results or _else_," she hacks the spring onions with each word, "the—last—three—years—were—in—vain."

"Which is why you've already baked three batches of muffins and cookies, and are now making your second Quiche Lorraine," Yamamoto says, cheeky grin in place. He rocks back in her kitchen chair. "In the middle of the night. _Before_ I knocked on your door."

She frowns darkly and wishes that he'd slip and bang his head against the wall. "Shut up, hahi. Yamamoto-kun can be such a hassle!"

The kitchen timer rings, and at first, Haru doesn't even hear it with the angry buzzing in her head, but then Yamamoto says without a hint of a smile, "It's Takeshi," and every noise in her head turns silent.

She takes the steaming Quiche Lorraine out of the oven and puts it without any fanfare on the kitchen table, right in front of his nose.

"Eat," she says and turns around sharply to put the next quiche in.

"We're not finished, Haru," Yamamoto says, voice blunt like her knife, then adds, "_Itadakimasu_."

It's quiet then, the only sounds the clatter of the kitchenware she tidies up and his fork and knife on the porcelain plate.

—

"Thanks for the food, Haru," he says—and he's too close, far too close, he's right behind her and if she would take a step back, her back would touch his chest and his arms would rest on her hips and—

She lets her shoulders slacken in a mock-relaxed stance.

"Please." She tries to cover her terseness with a grin. "Hasn't Yamamoto-kun heard of personal space?"

"I love you, Haru," he answers.

It punches the breath out of her.

When she turns around, he takes a step back to give her some room to look, to think.

"Don't say stupid things like that," she says in a desperate try to diffuse the air of its seriousness, tenseness, _feelings_.

"I'm serious, Haru." He looks at some point behind her left shoulder, but he doesn't need to see her in the eyes for her to know that he _is_ serious. It is, after all, not the first time he told her.

"Well, me too," she answers, hiding her shaking hands behind a flippant smile. "Don't think I'll ever have a relationship with you, Yamamoto-kun. You're a dear friend but—"

"You love me too."

She wants to say _I do _not_, how dare you be so rude!_, she wants to laugh at him and kick him out of her flat—but the truth is.

The truth is …

She could never respect his feelings so little. She could never be so ignorant of her own feelings.

(The truth is, Miura Haru has always regarded love as the most important feeling in the world, and for her to act so against that maxim just makes her sick to the stomach.)

"I can't say it anymore," she says instead. She surprises herself with the flat tone she uses. She doesn't blink because she's afraid to let memories resurface. "I'm sorry but it was good that we broke up. This—this won't work anymore."

Yamamoto ignores her, just kisses her on the mouth, so quick that she can't even react, and leaves her flat.

—

He doesn't stay away for very long. Some days later, he comes by again, only this time while the sun is still up and with a bag full of sushi in hand.

They eat in silence (it's not the comfortable one, though). He doesn't look her in the eyes (hasn't since _that_) and she cautionary avoids his gaze by looking out of the window.

—

When he gives her his portion of Futomaki with tuna (because she once told him she loves tuna fish, no pun intended) and takes her salmon ones instead (because she once got food illness when she ate salmon sashimi and doesn't like to eat it raw anymore), she stops breathing for a moment.

Then she breaks down, badly. She doesn't even realise that she sobs like a baby until he gives her a paper serviette and wipes her tears away with his warm hands when she doesn't. It doesn't make her stop, though, only intensifies the racking sobs her body produces and the guilt that claws at her. And the love.  
>Oh, the love.<p>

"Okay," he finally gives her the answer from their last conversation. He smiles lopsidedly and Haru can't help to think that he looks like a tragic hero right now which he kind of is, isn't he? That great nice guy who protected his girlfriend when they got kidnapped, and survived physically unscathed, only that his girlfriend is mentally scarred and can't get her head around being together with him anymore.  
>(Doesn't that sound like the worst kind of novel she would never read?)<p>

The worst is, she knows exactly what she is afraid of and why. Of course it makes sense for her to feel that way. It's just—she would have expected better of herself. She thought that Miura Haru is the kind of girl who can overcome such anxieties in the face of love.

She can't though.

She just can't.

Even imagining laying next to him, touching him, feeling his body next to hers … she won't ever be able to listen to it without seeing blood seeping out of the bullet wound in his side; without wondering when he will stop breathing, when he'll leave her forever, when he'll _die_.

The fear is all-consuming and Haru just can't abide it anymore. Loving him … she thought it could conquer everything, but this? Everything but herself, that's it. It just hurts so much.

And if love is only hurt, fear, tears—then is it love, still?

Yamamoto-kun (_Takeshi, Takeshi, Takeshi_) lets her go as if he has been burnt (as if he had read her thoughts), and his smile turns just the slightest bit more bitter. "I won't push you anymore, Haru." _So you don't have any reason to push me away even further_. "Let's tell Tsuna and the others tomorrow that we broke up." _If it makes it easier for you to pretend. _"But I still care for you, okay? I'm still your friend and—you can always talk to me whenever you want." _If saying that I love you hurts you, then I'll stop but don't be stupid believing it._

_— _

_I'll _never_ stop loving you._

—

"Thank you, Yamamoto-kun," Haru says softly and it's a done deal. One part of her cries because she knows she will never be together with this perfect, perfect man again, will never marry him, never have his children, grandchildren—but the other, the sadder, more afraid, bigger and louder part makes her eyes whirr around to look and her ears to hear and her fingers to touch if he's still breathing, still breathing.

(Something small, precious inside her shatters. She sees it reflected in his eyes, but they both smile as if the world were to end would they stop, so she breathes in deeply and tells herself she can cry later over this lost life.)


	54. kind

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Sawada Tsunayoshi, Basil, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 431

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: Yamamoto angsting around. With reason.

**Prompt**: 37—_kind_

**A/N 1**: First of all, I'm really sorry for not updating a lot—as you maybe have read in the last chapter's A/N, I kinda don't have that much free time anymore, and a lot of writing will be done at weekends from now on. Also, had some difficulties when I posted that chapter, so maybe if you haven't read it yet, now you can :D

**A/N 2: **Second thing? I'll honestly try to make the rest of this anthology fluffier. I feel like I haven't written something overly sweet and fluffy in about thirty chapters. Okay, I exaggerated. But you know what I mean :)

**A/N 3**: This drabble is really vague. I know. It's supposed to be, I guess. So don't worry about that aspect.

Reviews would be really, really lovely!

– bells

* * *

><p><strong>kind<strong>

_01:22_

"Please," the man says, and he closes his eyes and _pushes_.

_01:50_

He sits at a train station. He doesn't know how he ended up here. He cannot remember leaving the dark alley. He doesn't remember walking to the next train station.

His hands don't shake anymore.

A calm, detached voice in his head tells him that he should look if he has blood smears anywhere on his clothes, in his face, on his hands. His limbs feel like lead but he does it anyways, as good as he can when his mind is somewhere else, far away.

Trains pull in, trains pull out.

_02:29_

Tsuna stands in front of him, suddenly. Behind him is Basil who speaks frantically into a mobile phone, and Ryohei who is uncharacteristically quiet.

"Yamamoto-kun," Tsuna says quietly.

And he clenches his hands—the first movement since he sat down—and he blinks—the second movement—and he wants to say that Tsuna shouldn't worry about him, that everything's okay, that he's _fine_. But then, he imagines finding one of _his _friends in this kind of situation and, well, his reaction is really _not _fine.

"Sorry," he says instead and tries a smile.

Tsuna looks wary, guilty. He rubs a hand over his face. The gesture is full of exhaustion. "Let's bring you back to head quarters."

_04:00_

He can't fall asleep.

His eyes burn.

He doesn't cry.

_06:32_

The sun rises. It tints the white walls of his bedroom slowly pink, yellow, red.

_06:47_

Someone enters the room without knocking—which makes the list of people who could be it significantly smaller—he continues staring up at the ceiling.

She sighs. He hears the sound of clothes falling on the floor, and then, she lies down on the bed. It creaks with her weight as she nestles up to him.

"Are you hurt?" She asks in the quiet. He hates himself for making her worry—for making all of them worry. But it still feels so wrong—that he's the one taken care of. He doesn't deserve it.

"No," he answers.

"Thank goodness," she murmurs into his back, "thank goodness."

They stay quiet after that. Her breathing is deep, and her touch is warm and comforting.

_16:21_

He wakes up from the touch of her hand on his face. He opens his eyes, and she smiles at him sadly. "You're the kindest person I know," she tells him.

She doesn't promise him that everything will be alright, doesn't tell him that she loves him, doesn't absolve him. She can't and they both know it.

_23:59_

"Tomorrow will come," she promises him.


	55. the best there could be

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**Word count**: 1981 without the "omakes", 2611 with them

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**: Family fluff? :)

**Prompt**: 18—_crest _

**A/N 1**: I am hereby most officially apologising for not updating for _much_ too long (really? Where has the last month gone?)  
>I'm honestly sorry. It's not that I had <em>no<em> time to write, it's was just that it was greatly limited, and also, what time I _had_, I used for bigger projects (like, uh, maybe three other 8086 oneshots? — One I'm especially proud of has over 5K already and isn't even third-finished …).

I have an idea for almost every prompt that's left—but some are very vague, some are not satisfactory (because I want the last ten to be really BANG :D), and some, like this one, are just frigging long for a drabble. Well.

Compensation, maybe? (And chocolate?)

**A/N 2:** I find that for the standards Amano sets, Tsuyoshi truly is one of the best parents in the Reborn-universe. Or maybe, all the others are so crappy … ?

Anyway. Read! Enjoy! Eat pumpkin!

I love you all (more or less ... :P),

— bells

* * *

><p><strong>the best there could be<strong>

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

_friend & friend_

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi liked all of his son's friends. Takeshi had a good eye for the important things in life, so he chose great, loyal friends that bickered and were funny and good people in general. The Gokudera kid was funny, and the Sasagawa kid was extremely dedicated, and the Sawada kid was a lot like both his parents in all the right ways and still a lot of his own.

But he liked Miura Haru especially.

And not in a perverted, old-man kind of way (even though Takeshi sometimes looked at him like he doubted that …), but in the way that he felt that having a Haru-chan in life was something everything should set as a goal for oneself.

Of course, it wasn't like he did a lot of work to get her settle into his (and of course, his son's) life—maybe it was just pure luck, or fate, or something. But all questions aside, Tsuyoshi just felt that having a girl around, and one so nice, and quirky, and sweet like Haru-chan was just a great benefit in their lives.

Maybe his son deserved an allowance rise after all.

_girlfriend & boyfriend_

Of course, Tsuyoshi realised it much earlier than both usually clever Haru-chan _and _his romantically blind son, so it didn't surprise him at all when, on one winter day, they entered Takesushi together, hands clasped and all lovey-dovey eyes at each other.

"Oyaji, why're you grinning like that?" Takeshi said with a grin of his own that must have been at least as wide as his own.

Honestly, it was because he was _so _proud of his son for being how he was. It was because he loved his son so dearly his luck felt like his own. (It also was because his ongoing bet with Iemitsu had now a _winner_.)  
>But he wasn't the type of person to blurt things like that out.<br>"I got a big discount on the shari today," he said instead—and it wasn't a lie, honestly, but it wasn't really the truth either.

Haru-chan let out a little laugh, a pretty blush on her cheeks, and hid her face in Takeshi's jacket lapel—and Tsuyoshi could _swear_ he heard her mumble something about _lovely, idiotic father and son, hahi_.

_fiancée & fiancé_

Haru-chan didn't look like Chiasa—that much was very obvious. Tsuyoshi was kind of glad for that because that was proof again that Takeshi, who had loved his mother with a fierce, joyous adoration, had come to terms with his mother's death.

Chiasa had been tall for a Japanese woman, as tall as he himself was, with light brown hair that she had retinted every other month while furiously complaining about having to do it. She had been a gentle personality, but her hair—her hair had been that one thing in her life where she could only except perfection.

Their personalities differed a great lot as well. Haru-chan was too impulsive, all the time, and too loud, and she wore her heart on her sleeve in a way Chiasa would have found same parts charming, ridiculous, and dangerous.

Tsuyoshi was sure, though, that despite not being carbon copies, they would have gotten along swimmingly. Haru-chan would've chattered about cooking, and sewing, and her favourite light novels, and her love for Takeshi, and her inability to accept the word 'No'—about all the important and unimportant things in her life, and Chiasa would have listened, uncomplaining and amused. Chiasa would have taught her Ikebana, and Jujutsu, and the importance of admitting defeat. Chiasa would have learned to love Miura Haru as quickly as the rest of the Yamamoto family had.

And today, Tsuyoshi would have wished for nothing more than for Chiasa to be here to help him.

But she wasn't.

And still, there sat his soon-to-be daughter-in-law, looking distraught in her teal-coloured dress and looking more like her fiancé's mother than she had ever before.

Tsuyoshi knocked on the glass door to the veranda. "Haru-chan?"

Haru-chan yanked her head up abruptly and turned around. "Oh," she said a little breathlessly, "Oji-san-… is," she stood up and smoothed out non-existent crinkles in the skirt of her dress, "is something the matter? … Do you need help somewhere … ?"

As Tsuyoshi approached her, he saw the tears swimming in her eyes.

"Haru-chan."

She smiled a little, painfully so, and started wringing her hands, a nervous gesture he had seen her use only three or four times in the years he had known her.

"Did Takeshi do something? Or … are you unsure about marrying him?" Before she could open her mouth, he quickly added, "I wouldn't be angry with you. I care for you, Haru-chan, and, to me, your happiness is as important as Takeshi's. If you have doubts … you can tell me."

"No," she interrupted him in a strong voice, looking startled and genuinely affronted. "I'm one hundred percent sure that I want to marry Takeshi-kun. He's my most precious person, and I … I _love_ him so much it hurts. I just wish …" She breathed out deeply. "Oji-san, you haven't met Kaa-san and Tou-san yet, ne?"

Tsuyoshi shook his head no.

"It's my engagement party—but they didn't want to come. They told me they didn't want to get to know my fiancé and his father. It's because they don't want to see their only daughter."  
>All friends of Haru knew that her relationship with her parents had grown worse and worse over the years, but in the kind of working place the kids found themselves in, it wasn't too unusual for parents to turn their backs on their children. Haru, as she usually did, had just taken it in stride and worked even harder on maintaining and deepening the bonds she had madeon her own.<p>

"It's just a little bit lonely," she said and brushed away a tear from her cheek, smiling bravely.

"Oh Haru-chan," Tsuyoshi sighed and pulled her into a hug, patting her back gently. "I'm sorry."

She nodded and hugged him back.

"_We_'ll be your family," he promised.

"The best there could be," she answered and laughed a little with her soon-to-be father(-in-law).

_bride & groom_

The wedding day dawned as a beautiful summer day. The cow kiddo, Lambo, had berated Takeshi and Haru-chan for choosing the last week of August for their wedding.

"It'll be _way_ too hot! Yamamoto and Haru know that Lambo-sama can't work in that kind of heat!"

"Work?" Takeshi had repeated amusedly.

"He means picking upgirls, Takeshi-kun," Haru-chan had explained, equally entertained.

Against all odds though, the gods had bestowed them with great weather—not too hot, not too humid, a clear blue sky and a warming sun.

All went perfectly well—the ceremony was intimate and well-executed, the bridal pair happy and content, the best man- and chief bridesmaid-speeches delivered wonderfully.

"Oyaji," Takeshi approached him with a light in the eyes that, in Tsuyoshi's opinion, should stay there for the rest of his long, long life. "Thanks. I mean … not only for minding the whole catering, but for everything. You're the greatest father anyone could have." Weddings were mushy affairs. Tsuyoshi knew that from experience. "You'll be the greatest father-in-law and grandfather, too." His son, all grown-up, still looked a little embarrassed at the words he had said.

"… Oyaji, you don't have to _cry_."

"I'm not! It's just the strong wind … just the wind …"

_wife __&__ husband_

Yamamoto Haru liked traditions. She had grown up in a household where domestic traditions were not held very highly, so as an adult herself, she had decided to handle that aspect of life quite differently.

One of those traditions was that she took care of everything during _oshogatsu_. She cleaned the flat, she bought tons over tons of delicious, fresh ingredients for a lavish collection of dishes for the days of festivities.

She wouldn't let anyone take that away from her.

Not even when she was six months pregnant.

"She won't listen to me, or to Tsuna, or to _reason_," his son told him while they both watched Haru cook away in the kitchen while they sat on the couch in the living room. "I'm just happy tomorrow's the 31st. Tsuna and Gokudera promised they'd come with Reborn and Mukuro, and the Sasagawas will be there, too. Maybe Kyouko or Chrome can talk some sense into her …"

Tsuyoshi couldn't help but chuckle at the ruffled sound in his son's voice.

"Tou-san, I made some tea for you." Haru blew back a strand of her fringe, smiling brightly while holding a tray with a tea pot, cups, and some snacks. If she had heard them, she didn't show it.

"Thank you, Haru-chan. But really, you needn't make so much fuss just for one lousy New Years celebration."

Takeshi looked almost frustrated when Haru maintained her angelic smile and put a hand on her round belly. "It's not too much work for me, if that's what you're worrying about, Tou-san. I just want this year to be as nice as possible. Last years' oshogatsu we spent in Rome, and the year before that, Hiro-chan was born prematurely so I was in the hospital, taking care of Kyouko-chan so that _you _guys," she turned to Takeshi, "could finish business with the Yakuza.  
>It's just been to long since we had a nice, family New Years and our baby won't prevent me from enjoying it, <em>hahi!<em>"

Takeshi threw his hands in the air in exasperation: "What am I supposed to do, Oyaji?" At which Haru smiled innocently, and then sat down on her husband's knees, looping her arms around his neck and snuggling close. "I don't want to worry you—but I won't lie down for the last three months of pregnancy either. I didn't with Manami and I won't start doing it with _this _little one. You're such a worrier sometimes …" She put both hands on his cheeks affectionately, making sure he looked her in the eyes. "I still love you to pieces, though."

Some of the tension left Takeshi's shoulders but he still didn't look completely happy. "Then let us help at least. We're your family. That's what you signed up for when you married me," he bargained.

"But—"

"Oyaji _taught _you to cook. I can take care of the cleaning. And _you_ go take a bath or something. Please, Haru? Just for today?"

At exactly that moment, Manami-chan appeared in the door of the living room, rubbing her eyes with one fist sleepily. "Mama and Papa too loud," she complained. Then she raised her arms, wanting to be picked up—the gesture of a child spoilt with parental love. And of course, Haru-chan stoop up as swift as an arrow, followed quickly by Takeshi. "Manami sleepy," their daughter added while cuddling closer to her father while he lifted her up.

"Sorry, baby," Takeshi said and kissed his daughter on both cheeks.

"Do you want to take another nap?" Haru-chan asked to which Manami-chan shook her head. "Hmm, what about playing? Does Manami-chan like to play with Mama?"

"Yaaaay!" The two-year-old darling, suddenly wide awake, squealed and clapped her hands. Takeshi looked over the little head to his wife, a little surprised and a lot happy; a smile spread on his face. He forwarded Tsuyoshi's first grandchild (and happily soon not only anymore) to his wife and pressed a quick, firm kiss to her lips, "I love you too."

Tsuyoshi asked jokingly, "And when will _Ojii-chan _get a chance to play with his favourite granddaughter?"

"Later!" Manami-chan promised, very seriously, and nodded her head vigorously. "_Ojii _read books to Manami?"

"Sure will do, honey."

Manami let out a laugh in delight—and the three adults, caught by her innocent happiness and their own, much broader-faceted kind of happiness joined in the baby girl's laughter.

* * *

><p><strong>OMAKE<strong>

_friends_

Haru liked Yamamoto Takeshi but she _loved_ the sushi at Takesushi's.

It was one of the peaks of having met Tsuna-san: being able to go there regularly and eat sushi for free—just like always getting in crazy(,) fun situations, or gaining tons of friends and female go-to persons.

In fact, she loved the sushi there so much, she even convinced her family to eat out there at least biweekly. Suffice to say, her parents loved it there, too.

It wasn't just the high-quality fish where you could _taste_ the freshness, or the _very _acceptable prices—it wasn't even the amazing varieties of green tea types, side dishes or soy sauces.

It had _probably_ something to do with the _world-changingly _delicious gari and Akiko-san, the extremely nice and funny waitress—but mostly, the reason lay with Yamamoto Tsuyoshi who was kind, and warm, and friendly, and funny.

What was the strange thing about that was that Yamamoto-san seemed to have taken a liking to her, as well. Whenever she was around, she just found herself babbling away with both Yamamotos, feasting on the tastiness that was Takesushi's sushi and enjoying herself immensely.

It was a good time, Haru thought contentedly, and smiled cutely when Tsuyoshi ruffled her hair and said, "Your usual, Haru-chan?"

"Yes, please!"

_couple_

Being together with Miura Haru was _very _easy and _very _difficult.

It was easy because it was so ridiculously easy to love her, and let her love him. It was difficult because it was so ridiculously easy to love her, and let her love him.

They were part of the Mafia, of one of the most influential Families to top—and being in love was even more dangerous there than it already was on its own.

What would rival Families do when they got hold of that information? What would _he_ do if she ever got hurt just because he was a Guardian?

"I'm no civilian, Takeshi-kun," she said, taking his hand in hers and swaying them in the tempo of their walking, "you always forget that, don't you?"

Yamamoto just sighed in reply.

"And I can take care of myself. Three years of self-defence training with Lal-san and Gamma-san should have _some_kind of effect, ne?"

"I know, but—"

"Yamamoto Takeshi." She tugged at his hand, and came to a halt. When she looked up to him, her face was smooth and her eyes clear and warm. "Will you have trust in me or will I have to do the same thing Kyouko-chandid?"

Sasagawa had challenged Tsuna to a duel—no Flames, no rings, just plain old human abilities. (And she had kind of beaten him to a pulp.)

"I trust you, Haru. Don't think that I don't. It's just—"

"Takeshi-kun," she said with an exasperated shake of the head and a tender smile. "You're such an idiot." Then, cupping his face in her gloved hands, she stood up on tiptoes and pressed a warmkiss to his cold lips.

He breathed out and surrendered. He pushed the door to the Sushi shop open. "Let's go meet Oyaji."

"And eat delicious sushi?"

"Sometimes I really think you're only together with me for the free fish."

"And for me, of course!" Oyaji tossed in before Haru could say anything. She just giggled a little and greeted his father with a polite bow—Oyaji, though, wouldn't have any of that nonsense, and pulled her into a hug.

"You're the best thing Takeshi has done for a long, long time," he said jokingly.

"Oyaji—we're not _married_ or anything," he said and felt himself blushing (just a little bit) "Don't say it like that."

Haru and Oyaji just exchanged a look—and part of him was happy and excited that they liked each other so well; but another part of him? Was just simply _terrified_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 3**: gari = pickled ginger, you know, then one you get with sushi

shari = sushi rice

osogatsu = New Years

Chiasa means "one thousand mornings" (what a pretty meaning and what a pretty name), and Manami means something like "affectionate beauty" :)

Oh, and the omakes were written while I didn't use Tsuyoshi's POV to write the drabble. It didn't quite work the way I wanted, so I changed it :)

Reviews are, as always, the ultimate gift for writing!


	56. hold

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto, Tsuna, Gokudera, Haru

**Word count**: 1205

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: no logical common thread, I guess?

**Prompt**: 64—_hold_

**A/N 1**: What a weird drabble. I guess I just really suck at action-y scenes.

**A/N 2**: A big shout-out to every who reviewed the last chapter! I'm so happy that many of you liked it enough to bless me with a few words, and also were so nice and understanding with the lack of updates. Also, a special thanks goes to **puruku** who reviewed almost every chapter of this anthology!

* * *

><p><strong>hold<strong>

"Hold on, _don't let go of my hand_."

_Ha._

"When did you become a comedian, Yamamoto-kun?" Her voice was too breathless, her smile more a grimace, and her life—her life could be over in any second. "If … I mean, if …—" she gulped on too thin, too hot air. The oxygen reserves would soon be exhausted. "Don't blame yourself, Yamamoto-kun. Don't _ever_."

"What the hell are you talking about," he uttered with gritted teeth and anger blazing in his eyes. Or maybe it was only the flames that crept closer, mirrored in his eyes.

Blood dripped down his arm where he held her hand tightly; the other hung limply by his side, she knew, even though she couldn't see it with all the smoke and the tears in her eyes.

She didn't want to say _I don't want to die_, for the reason alone that speaking it out would only manifest the horror of their situation.

"They're going to come," he abruptly said, exhaustion slurring his words, but fear and determination both sharpening the meaning behind them. "_Don't let go_. Don't go act like a martyr, don't be _heroic_ or something idiotic like that. Just hold on tightly. Please, Haru, can you do that for me?"

She still had to go on a date with him. She still had to find out if she was in love with him. She still had to _live_.

"Okay," she said, so quiet that he maybe could not hear the choked terror in her voice.

"Yeah?" He sounded _so _relieved.

"Yes."

—

In the distance, behind the cackling sound of the flames, and the crumbling of the mansion, they heard Vongola coming (only they were too afraid to get their hopes up, just for them to get crushed).

* * *

><p>Her face was wet with tears, and black with smears from the smoke, and her fingers were full of small, little cuts.<p>

Yamamoto had saved her life by mere willpower.

"Juudaime!" Hayato ran towards him. He stopped as soon as he could hear the racking sobs that came out of Haru's mouth. Tsuna continued stroking the girl's back soothingly while she cried into the fabric of his jacket. "The doctor said that it's an acute stress reaction," he told his right-hand man as he came closer gingerly.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Hayato said without taking his eyes from her shaking form. "Twenty minutes ago, she just stared into space and didn't react to any stimuli."

Tsuna breathed out wearily. "How's Yamamoto?"

Hayato let out a sound, similar to a chuckle or a scoff, "The baseball idiot wouldn't know how to die if one gave him a manual with pictures."

Tsuna nodded, relieved.

"His right shoulder is dislocated, two ribs are broken. But the gash in his side was shallow, and he didn't lose too much blood," the right-hand man added in more detail and a gentler tone.

They stood—or rather, sat and stood respectively—together in silence, with only the sound of shouts in the distance and Haru's crying. After a few excruciatingly long moments, Gokudera crouched down with a concerned scowl and said, "Oi, Miura, did you hear? Yamamoto's fine. You don't need to worry about the idiot. Just—just let a doctor take a look at your injuries."

And maybe because Hayato's chosen tone of voice was so casual, yet so urgent, or maybe because Haru and Hayato were so similar that he knew how to reach her in her shock, Haru stopped sobbing, turned her head around to look at the right-hand man, and ordered angrily, "Don't call him an idiot!", eyes and voice still full of tears, body still bruised and battered, and holding her right wrist gingerly with her left hand.

"But he _is_," Gokudera said, not without glee, "he's a _fucking idiot_." Before Haru could open her mouth to start screeching, Gokudera added, "But he's in love with you, so you gotta cut him some slack."

That took the wind out of her sails.

"Oh," she breathed out. And, "He didn't tell me," she whispered.

"He was going to, Haru," Tsuna told her softly.

"Oh," she repeated.

And started wailing again.

She didn't find it in her to tell her friends that those weren't tears of anguish.

But maybe they wouldn't have gotten it either way—crying out of relief, and gladness, and love … maybe wasn't something they could understand.

* * *

><p>She was too exhausted to run to him, but somehow, that didn't stop her from doing so.<p>

He leaned against a tree trunk, and a paramedic had just finished bandaging his arm.

"Yamamoto-kun," she breathed out, her legs turning to jelly the moment she had seen him. Was it the nausea that came from her mild concussion? Or was it the excessive strain of the last few hours?

He smiled when his gaze brushed hers.

It probably was something else entirely.

"Haru … Are you fine?"

"Yes, I am. Thanks to you."

He didn't deny it, just patted the spot on the ground next to him. "Sit with me?"

She closed the distance between them and sat down on his left side, the one that was mostly unhurt. Shigure Kintoki lay on Yamamoto's other side.

He lifted his arm to sling it over her petite shoulders but stayed silent.

"Ahh, what an exhausting day," Haru murmured into his shoulder, a weak attempt at dissolving the tension from the day and from the particular situation they were in. Glancing towards Yamamoto, she reached with a hand towards her cheek to feel the heat emanating from her skin. He just smiled wryly in response and pulled her a little closer.

"I always get so tired when I cry too much," she told him because she didn't know what else to say or do. "And—and I haven't thanked you yet. For—for saving my life. And for … you know, Yamamoto-kun–"

"Haru," he interrupted her. He sighed audibly, but as she took a glance of his face, there was not a trace of frustration to be seen. "I guess they told you, huh?"

"Hahi?" she squeaked. "Um … I mean, well. Yes. They did."

"Okay." He didn't _sound _okay, but she let him ponder his thoughts and waited patiently for him to continue. And then, he did. (And then, her heart felt like bursting.) "I'm in love with you." His mouth was close to her temple, so close, almost touching. "Just so we're clear. I'm in love with you. And I think that you like me a little bit, too. Correct me if I'm mistaken, yeah? But … I think you do. So … do you want to go out with me?"

She broke away from him to look him straight in the eyes. Then, she frowned. "Don't think for a _moment _that I'd go out with you just because you saved my life."

"I … I wouldn't," he reassured her with a genuine and maybe a little bit hurt smile.

"Good." Then she pushed closer again, and, much to her own astonishment, kissed him. Before Yamamoto had any chance to react, the kiss had ended already. Sh smiled, a little of her heart showing in it. "Because I have ten thousands of other reasons for it already."


	57. confessions, murmured

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru, Sawada Tsunayoshi, Gokudera Hayato, Kozato Enma, Chiavarone Dino

**Word count**: 3180

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: Ahh, I hate that this doesn't make any sense.

**Prompt**: 50—_murmur_

**A/N**: You know what changed during writing this anthology?

First off, even when I read those last KHR chapters (btw, what did you think of the ending? Me thinks, it was rather anticlimactic and … well, not enough ending-ish?) that, you gotta admit, are quite full of Haru/Tsuna stuff—and I started as a die-hard 2786 shipper—my heart was still full of YamaHaru-ness. Well, I think I'm converted? I now have a new OTP, I guess.

And what's also strange? Before I started with _hidden spots_, I reaaaally didn't think Gokudera and Haru could ever hold a decent conversation, let alone be friends. But I don't know … now, I kind of think they _could _be. Friends, I mean. Good ones, even—grudgingly respecting each other and all. They're both very dedicated, loyal individuals who love Tsuna deeply and pretty fiercely, too.

Eh, well.

* * *

><p><strong>confessions, murmured<strong>

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

denial, murmured

(_Haru_)

.

.

.

"Haru! Haru! …" Footsteps, closer. Closer. "Ah. There you are. We searched for you _everywhere_!"

The very old girl—or maybe very young woman, depending on your kind of philosophy—turned on her deck chair, from her side to her back, and raised a confused brow at the brunette standing in front of her, panting harshly, hands propped on his thighs to support his body. She pushed up her sunglasses, her favourite ones that always slipped down her small nose ("You won't get to wear them," her mother had said when she had bought them in Italy, "European noses are just not built like ours." But she hadn't listened, and well, that was what she got from not listening to her mother) and, still, squinted against the sun's setting to see her friend better.

She thought about saying sorry for going MIA on them—thought about telling him that this was only proof that they weren't as good in hide and seek than they thought they were, _Signore Mafioso—_thought about asking _why_ they even searched for her—thought about asking who 'we' even were. In the end, she only let out a little sound, _hahi_, and huddled against the sun-warmed blanket she had taken with her on deck.

It was her luck Sawada Tsunayoshi had found her, and not, say, Gokudera Hayato, or Suzuki Adelheid. It was her luck because, clumsy and awkward as he still was from time to time, in the years since Reborn had started tutoring him, his hyper-intuition had really developed greatly. So, instead of doing something that would have made her angry, cry, or punch him in the gut, he sat down next to her legs (after two days already looking tan against the stunning blue colour of the blanket) on the deck chair, and let out a loud, exasperated sigh in the warm Mediterranean air.

Haru pinched her mouth as she watched her friend.

"I wasn't hiding, just so you know, Tsuna-san," she said haughtily.

"Uh-huh."

"There was _no_ reason for me to do so."

"Mhhm."

"I just needed some privacy for a few moments."

"Hmmm."

"We're on a _cruiser_, hahi! You couldn't have been looking properly if you've found me only just now!" She breathed out, and pushed the sunglasses up into her hair. The sky was still light-coloured, in hues of yellow, orange, pink and red, but the sun had already set. Soon it would be dark. "It's no fun exculpating myself if you don't say anything, Tsuna-san."

"It's not like it's my fault …" Tsuna mumbled into his non-existent beard.

"I heard you, Tsuna-san!"

And her friend smiled at her, amused, bugged out, but mostly with a fondness she _really _didn't deserve right now. "And you _should_, Haru. You're not a kid anymore, we all aren't anymore. So don't act like a brat. You did what you did. Now stand up and take it like the woman you are."  
>She couldn't help it—she just had to laugh. "This pep talk … oh Tsuna-san, you definitely spent too much time with Reborn-chan and Bianchi-san." Her smile was huge as she wiped away a tear out of the corner of her eye.<p>

"And whose fault is that? It's not like I did it out of my free will …" Tsuna-san reproached (only half-joking …) as Haru pulled him into a hug.

"But look how great you turned out! Who would have imagined that—Sawada Tsunayoshi, having the money to charter at least half of this dreamy cruiser"—"We wouldn't have needed anymore room anyway! Kyouko-chan doesn't mind!" Tsuna shrieked indignantly—"Sawada Tsunayoshi, the _best _Don the Vongola has ever seen. Sawada Tsunayoshi, being able to give the greatest kind of pep talks." She smiled up at him fondly. "It'd be much easier if I could still be in love with you."

Tsuna laughed, indulgent. "Is the chief bridesmaid supposed to say stuff like that?"

Haru grinned and said, "Well, I'm just speaking my mind. Sometimes I miss those old days—don't you?"

"For our innocence back then, maybe. And for the familiarity of those old days. But mostly, I think our future is quite okay, isn't it? You little scaredy-cat."

"Well, if _I _would marry my high school sweetheart on the most gorgeous cruiser in front of all my friends and family in two days—I'd love my life, too. But not everyone's that lucky, ne?" She nudged him a little, and he nudged her back.

The best thing about friendships with people you've only known for the longest part of your life was, thought Haru, that speaking was just as comfortable as squabbling, or crying, or just sitting together in silence.

Eventually, Tsuna stood up and reached out for her hand. Without a second thought, she grabbed it, and let herself be hauled up. As they walked back together, arms linked, Haru leaned her head against his shoulder. She felt Tsuna muss up her hair but didn't find it in her to reprimand him about it.

"Everything's going to be alright, Haru," he promised her. "Even if it's not alright, it _will_ be. Eventually. Someday." She heard the laugh in his voice. So, so pushed him a little to the side, and enjoyed the fun of seeing one of the most influential men in the world stumble over his own two feet.

.

.

.

excuses, murmured

(_Takeshi_)

.

.

.

Yamamoto Takeshi was easy-going. No ifs, no buts, no whens, no wheres.

He just _was_.

It was just that kind of fact that wouldn't, _couldn't_ change, no matter what else happened.

Of course, that didn't mean that he was in a state of constant happy-go-lucky. It didn't mean that he never took things serious, or that you couldn't have a decent conversation about meaningful topics with him, or that he wasn't the one you turned to whenever you had a seemingly unsolvable problem or wanted a food fight to be finished, _now, please?_

But at the core of his being, he was. He didn't like things to be over-dramatised, to puff stories up until they were about a queen and three elephants and not about a girl and two mice. He liked simplicity best.

So it wasn't surprising that at chaotic times (for example, an event like, say, a wedding, of, say, two rather important people who, maybe, had just wanted to elope only they had been spotted) people more often than not turned to him.

It didn't bother him much. Since he had grown up in a gastronomy environment, he knew how to juggle finances, raw fish, and good waitresses—even with extra time (and Bianchi-induced) pressure, a wedding was not that much more difficult to handle.

At least, he didn't have to fight with crazy brides or desperate grooms. Really, Kyouko and Tsuna seemed the most calm about their impending wedding day. (Gokudera and his sister though, Reborn and Adelheid, Hibari and Varia, Viper and Lambo … that was a whole other thing.)

Tsuna hadn't asked for his help—he never did when it was something personal, something for _him_ alone, but that didn't mean that, as a friend, Yamamoto didn't thought it his responsibility to see that his friend's wedding would go smoothly.

So, he took care of everything. He organised the live band, he overlooked the kitchen staff and the menu planning and the flower bouquets, and pretty much everything else, too.

(The seating arrangements, he left to Reborn—because he knew from experiences that a wedding that went _too _unproblematic was a wedding quickly forgotten, and who wanted _that_?)

(Also, it would just be so much more fun that way …)

And it was kind of nice. Not that he loved being the wedding planner so much—only, the alternative was leisurely enjoying the sun and the smell of the Mediterranean Sea, was using all the amazing facilities the cruiser could offer, was having tons of nice, free time—and frankly, that wasn't what he wanted right now at all.

No.

No, seriously, there'd be nothing worse than that.

.

.

.

with love, murmured

(_stop being idiots_)

.

.

.

But they couldn't have avoided each other much longer than they already had. Both knew that.

So when the first dance was over (Tsuna hadn't tripped over his own feet or Kyouko's wedding gown) and more people started flooding the dance floor, they weren't _too _surprised when they were being pulled by Dino (Haru) and Enma (Yamamoto) respectively into an empty cabin.

"Sorry, but we really have no other choice." (Enma.)

"We'll get you as soon as you have made up with each other. Or made out." (Dino.)

Then, the room was locked with a resounding _click_.

—

What now? She wondered. _What now what now what now_.

The silence in the room was choking.

She couldn't even look Yamamoto-kun in the eyes—didn't _dare_ look at him, afraid of seeing in his eyes what he had already told her (maybe not in words, but in his shocked expression that time; in the looks, in the frowns, and dodged stares, and his avoidance in general) already.

Rejection was not a nice feeling and Haru wasn't a masochist.

Haru sighed as she watched Yamamoto put some distance between them walking to the bullseye and not detaching his eyes from the panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea.

It was kind of sad, really. Tragic, even.

Because … she hadn't even _meant _to confess. She had just blurted them out, those easy, easy words, _I like you_, daringly and stupidly and vainly. And it was the truth, wasn't it, only the simple truth. She liked him. There was nothing she could do to change that.

And in, say, a few months, she would be proud that she told him. She would, because that was just the kind of person she was. Because she liked who she was and how she was.

Straightforward, romantic, earnest Haru.

But right now, it was still all much too new and too fresh for her to be _mature _about—confessing, and getting rejected, didn't mean falling out of love. Right now … it was only embarrassing, uncomfortable. Painful.

Tsuna-san understood that. Kyouko-chan did too, at least to an extent (Kyouko had never been rejected, her dearly beloved best friend, she sometimes caught herself thinking, fuelled by dissatisfaction and unrequited, unhappy first loves and second loves, lit by even the quiet, simple candlelight of Tsuna's and Kyouko's relationship. They were fleeting thoughts, though, and it was very much human to have them; Haru knew that and accepted it as a weak side inside her; tried to embrace it like her good sides)—so those two had left her alone.

She wasn't blind, though, nor was she deaf _or_ dumb. She had seen Gokudera-san grumbling in corners, had _smelled_ the scheming in the air (she _was _the girl who had attended six years of _private school, girls only_after all).

She just didn't expected that kind of attack at Tsuna-san's and Kyouko-chan's wedding day, to be honest. Maybe after, she had thought. Maybe back in Naples. Or in Japan. She hadn't expected those three, bosses and right-hand-man and friends and _imbeciles_, to mess in her love affairs quite so early.

—

"I really don't want to talk to you, Haru. About anything," he said in the tense silence.

Something _exploded_ in her head (and wasn't she happy about that; everything was better than the feeling of a wounded heart): "Were you always this rude, Yamamoto?" she spat.

First, he just looked shocked, dumb-founded even. Then, anger crept into his features. "Were _you_ always this _ignorant_?" he blurted out—and weren't it for all the non-verbal accusations, all the hurt and misery in the locked room, it would have been funny, how comically angry he looked.

But it wasn't. It wasn't at all.

His voice was very quiet, and very controlled, coiled tighter than a spring, when he continued. "This is stupid. We don't have anything to talk about, do we? It's not like there are any misunderstandings between us. Everything is perfect clear."

Maybe she still wasn't disillusioned enough, but she didn't think he looked happy about that.

He didn't just look uncomfortable because a kinda good friend had confessed to him and he had to reject her because didn't reciprocate her feelings. He looked hurt and that didn't make any sense. Why did _he_ get to look genuinely hurt when it was her chest that felt there was a small hole in it?

"You're so mean," she said.

And maybe broke out in tears.

—

(You're so mean.

You're so _mean_.

You're _so _mean.

_You_'re so mean.

You're so mean.)

And then, everything he had thought to himself, everything he had planned—_everything _went out of the window.

(Even his easy-goingness couldn't withhold the stress Miura Haru could put on him.)

—

"I won't be your consolation prize."

—

Oh, but this was stupid.

This was so, so stupid.

(Only, when she thought about it, it wasn't so stupid anymore. When she thought about it, it made kind of a lot of sense, from his perspective, at least—and maybe even from the perspective of hundreds of other people.)

But she hadn't.

"Oh," she uttered, wiped away the tears, and sat down on the couch as if her legs had turned into jelly the moment he had admitted what his true problem with her confession was—with her having feelings for him. She put both hands over her mouth, hiding the smile stretching on her face from him.

He couldn't understand why she would smile right now.

At least, not now.

(Not until she had told him.

Not until she had told him that she _hadn't; _that the thought that had crossed his mind, and probably Tsuna-san's, and Gokudera-san's, and about _everybody_ else's—had never occurred to her, _not even in the slightest_.)

Now, only how to convince him of that.

She watched him while thinking; the tenseness in his shoulders, his clear-cut profile, the hidden strength in his body and his eyes and his very being.

And unbeknownst to her, the curve of her mouth softened.

"Is it so hard to believe that I would like you without any other factors playing a part in it?"

Because to her, it wasn't. In fact, liking him was the easiest thing in the world—so easy even that she hadn't realised that she did until she was in too deep to stop.

Instead of answering, he told her: "I don't understand you."

It was such a strange thing to say, she couldn't even find one word to reply to him.

"I don't get it—you said you were in love with Tsuna. You said you would _marry_ him. The Haru I know … that Haru wouldn't give up on that dream.—And two days after Tsuna proposes to Kyouko, you tell me you like _me_? I just don't understand that."

"I've not liked Tsuna-san like that in a long time," she told him as plainly as she could.

"It sure didn't look like that. _You _didn't act like that."

She stood up abruptly—as if to say something in her defence. But then, something changed in her eyes, around her mouth. And she told him. "I guess … I guess I just took a lot longer than you—all of you—to grow up." She smiled a lopsided smile. "Don't you remember when Tsuna-san still said he didn't want to become Vongola Decimo or Neo Vongola Primo or whatever Reborn-chan thought of—even when everyone knew that _he_ knew he was Vongola already? Or when you still acted like you didn't know this was real Mafia and not a game? Or when Mukuro still sometimes tells people that he's only waiting for a weak moment so that he can possess Tsuna-san?  
>Despite saying the words, we already knew what was coming for us. We knew and we <em>wanted<em> it, right? But—but holding up that façade … it's reassuring. You don't have to think about the future when you act like you still hold on to your old beliefs.  
>And for me, telling the world that I liked Tsuna-san was that. Was me clinging to our childhood, I guess. Clinging to the easy days when I could say I would do <em>anything<em> out of my puppy love for Tsuna-san, without thinking about the consequences or the people I hurt with my brash actions.

I've not been in love with Tsuna-san for a long time, Takeshi-kun. I knew that like I knew that I would still work for the Vongola no matter what. I think … I childishly wanted to hold on to the past as long as I could.

And … I guess, I didn't want to show you that I was beginning to like someone else while I still didn't want to grow up. Because that would be unfair towards Takeshi-kun—I didn't want to confess like that either; it was just … you were so nice to me, and I was so happy, and I just blurted that confession out."

"God, _Haru_." He had stopped pacing in the middle of her explanation, stood rigid while observing her face intently while she told her story. Now, he sat down where she had sat before, slumped down, and slipped a hand through his hair.

"Hahi? What did I do this time?" She couldn't help but smile because this situation was so crazy and speaking out her thoughts—of growing up despite not wanting to, and truly loving someone without wanting to, and letting go of your childhood security blanket**—**had made them clearer to her than they had ever been before, and she felt light-headed with finally being free of all the thoughts that had weighted her down.

"You're an idiot," he told her in the end. When he looked up from his hands, his eyes were crinkled with a smile, and she fell a little bit more in love with him.

"But a cute one," she added sweetly.

"Your head is a mess," he continued while she stepped closer, slowly and surely.

"Every genius' is."

"I like girls with long hair better," he said when she was so close that he could touch the strands of hair that curled softly at her chin.

She kneed in front of him so that they were on eye-level.

"I can be an idiot, too. I'm possessive, and I'm no good at showing my emotions." His eyes didn't leave the curve of her mouth. Not one second.

"Mhh," she replied. Then, she leaned in closer—a whiff of his cologne, a flutter of her eyelashes—and kissed him. It was warm, a humming that went through her whole body, and letting loose such a sweet gentleness that she could have cried.

When they parted slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled: "You still owe me an answer to my confession."

—

"Thank god that's finally over. Man, those drama queens …"

"Hmm," Dino agreed and watched as the Hayato lit a cigarette.

"We did a good job," Enma, too, agreed, timid and polite as always.

—

**end.**

(No, really, no more misunderstandings anymore.)

* * *

><p>I'm really not satisfied with this drabble.<p>

It's really much too long. It's nonsensical. Haru and Yamamoto are idiots. Argh. I just don't know how to make it better, and I really want to update, and I honestly like the general idea of this plot. Any pointers, guys?

Oh, and also, thanks in general for the reviews! You're great!

Love,  
>bells<p> 


	58. door

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Kyouko, Lambo, I-pin, Yamamoto, Tsuna, Gokudera, Haru

**Word count**: 813

**Rating**: K+

**Warnings**: This is sad, be warned. This is also Christmas-themed and way too late. Also, in a timeline of sorts, this would go before CH 52—_about subtleties and animal bites_, but _after _CH 53—_still, breathing_. It's my sad!8086-verse, I guess.

**Prompt**: 57—_door_

**A/N 1**: Short recap here:

(CH 53) _Haru and Yamamoto who, at this point, are a couple in their twenties get kidnapped by some psycho-yakuza. They get out alright, with no physical harm—but with a lot of psychological problems. Haru can't stand the thought of losing Yamamoto—she kind of stops seeing him as a person but thinks of him only as that boy she loves who could die any second, and she just can't stand it anymore. She makes him break up with her._

_Yamamoto is not okay with it, but what can he do? He accepts it because he doesn't want her to hurt, and he knows that as of right now, her relationship with him is the thing that hurts her the most._

(CH 52) _Ten years or so later, Haru and Yamamoto are neither married, nor together or whatever. That doesn't mean, though, that they don't love each other, still._

* * *

><p><strong>door<strong>

"Merry Christmas!" Haru exclaims cheerily as she hauls the massive amount of gift-wrapped packages in the waiting hands of both Lambo and I-pin.

"Merry Christmas too, Haru-nee!" They echo like the well-brought up, sweet children they can be—if they want to. And today, they want to. Haru sees it in their shining eyes, in their big, toothy grins and their jittery feet.

Lambo, sweet gentleman he will be one day, rushes ahead to the great living room with about three fourths of the presents in his arms—he blinks conspiratorially at his friend, and I-pin makes a little sign with her hand. Haru scratches her ear curiously, but doesn't ask. She knew from the start that they have planned something for this party, and she loves them too much to try impeding them.

I-pin who has stayed close to her side, tugs at the hem of her sleeve.

"Hahi—I-pin-chan, what is it?"

"We missed you a lot, Haru-nee," the girl confesses with an almost hurt edge to her voice. And Haru understands it. The kids Tsuna-san's Mama took in seven years ago were lonely and alone, with no real family, and have grown to be wonderful under the flourishing hands of Sawada Nana. That doesn't mean that they're still not easier hurt than others. She smiles her warmest smile, just for the little girl she's grown to love like her own family, and puts a hand on her soft hair. "I missed you, too. And I promise, I'm back for good."

—

She's too happy to feel the prick of pain at seeing him, again, after more than sixteen months, much too happy. It's a feeling she's accustomed to, because she has always been and will always be a happy kind of person—but it fills her body so quickly, like fireworks exploding in her chest and briary roses twining around her arms and legs, like staring at the sun for too long or standing in the rain just for the sake of feeling it pelt against skin.

_It's just too much_, she realises, and, _I'm still in love with you_. She releases the breath she hasn't realised she's been holding, and accepts the smile he greets her with, tentative but still an almost automatic reaction.

_It's good to be home. _

_I've missed you all so much. I've missed you the most. _

_Why am I still in love with you? _

"Hello, Yamamoto-kun."

_Please don't love me anymore._

—

Of course he still loves her. It's not a question of _do you don't you _for him.

"Tch," Gokudera grumbles as he lights another cigarette he won't smoke. It's his kind of strategy to finally stop smoking, but when Ryohei pointed out the extreme SHS, it just ended with a lot of broken vases, so Yamamoto won't say anything.

Tsuna, who asked the question, just nods, a sadness in his features that makes him look a thousand years older than he is.

"Don't worry, Tsuna. I won't _do_ anything. It's Christmas and I'm happy that she's home." He forces a smile, not because his words aren't the truth but because they still, despite it, taste bitter in his mouth.

"It's not that," Kyouko answers for him. She smiles in a way Tsuna couldn't in this kind of situation. (It's a dark, tragic smile—it's an understanding smile, a smile that shows what Tsuna hasn't accepted yet.) "Of course we know that you would never hurt her on purpose. But …"

But still. But still you're the one who has the power to hurt her.  
>Tsuna's fiancée doesn't need to say the words for them to be heard.<br>Tsuna breathes out loudly in helpless anger. Gokudera scoffs with something akin to sympathy on his features and snips the cigarette stub away.

(Haru and he—they'll never get their fairy tale ending.)

—

It's not the first time they have tried something like this.

"Lambo-kun, I-pin-chan, please let us out," Haru demands, very calmly.

"No!" Lambo's voice shakes (ah, puberty) through the closed door, equally as matter-of-factly. "We're sick and tired of you gone out of the country, Haru-nee! And we're sick and tired of Yamamoto being all gloomy and sad, too. You belong together, don't you see that, so _please _get your shit together. It's Christmas and you still love each other."

Haru sighs and turns around to him. "They're growing up, aren't they?"

"Lambo used his Lightning flame. He hardened the lock and the door. I wouldn't even have come through it if they hadn't stolen Shigure Kintoki." He laughs humourlessly. "Yeah, they're growing up. We all have since you've gone, Haru." The last sentence, he murmurs softly, like a caress. Like a punch in the gut, too.

"I'm very sorry," she says, very prim and very sincere.

He smiles wistfully and raises a hand (her breath catches) to touch her cheekbone with a thumb. "I know, Haru."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2**: This is just a snapshot of the time in-between. They're probably in their middle-twenties here. Oh, I want them to have a happy ending, but in this 'verse, I know that they'll never get it.

Poor they. Poor them? Idk.

**A/N 3**: SOOOOORRY for the radio silence (aha, I just looked up the English word for "Funkstille", which, in German, is used in colloquial language, kind of like, er, "silence between people" and radio silence just sounds so weird xD)!

Every idea I have just kind of _explodes_, which is why I'm writing on different stories with no land ahoy. This has been sitting in documents since Christmas (duh), but I couldn't finish it until now. I know, I'm a horrible updater.

Punish me by writing me mean reviews! :P

(No, seriously, reviews would be amazing.)

Lovelovelove,

— bells


	59. here is the deepest secret nobody knows

**Title**: hidden spots

**Character(s)**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Haru, and the (hopefully) cute Manami and Hiro

**Word count**: 1282

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: Domestication. Kids. Fears. Love. Apple Rabbits. Yamamoto being especially awesome (at least IMO).

**Prompt**: 10—_lull and storm_

**A/N 1**: Manami, that's the name of the 8086-daughter (well, how that sounds) in CH 55—_the best there could be_, but that's just because I love the name and its meaning. These don't correlate at all.  
>And I really like the name 'Hiro'. I love how it sounds like "hero," I guess, because I'm kitschy like that :D<p>

**A/N 2:** I don't think the next few updates will come any more frequently than the last ones. I mean, I'm gonna try, of course, but I don't think I'll be able to. So, dear readers, thanks a lot for the patience :)  
>On another note: I'm so proud! I'm really gonna finish this drabble collection. Incredible. Aaaand, I really want to get over those 200 reviews? Gals and guys, bust (EDIT: Freudian Slip much? BUT) most importantly, readers, do this for me! Review the heck out of those last few drabbles (because you love me, yeah? xD)!<p>

With much adoration,

—bells

* * *

><p><strong>here is the deepest secret nobody knows<strong>

—

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
>and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows<br>higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
>and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart<em>

_—_

"Mama! We're baaaa-ack!" The sound of joyous, childlike laughter and trampling feet suddenly fills the before silent house. "Oh, Mama, we missed you _sooooo _much!" And there, the two darling children are, twin grins on their adorable faces, showing with their hands just how much they missed their mother on their week-long trip to Namimori.

"I missed you, too, my little monsters," Haru says as she bends down to kiss and hug both of her children. "Where have you left your father?"

"Oh, he's unpacking, he said," Manami explains cheerfully.

"So that we could go greet you first!" Hiro adds with a grin of his own.

"Very well-thought," Haru compliments. "So, how about you sit down and I'll cut some fruit and you tell me _all_ about the week you spent with your Ojii-chan!"

"I want apple rabbits," Hiro says, rubbing his belly. "What about you, Nee-chan?"

"Hmm … strawberries! With chocolate!"

"Let's see about the chocolate," another voice throws in from the door of the living room, drily and amusedly.

"But Papa," Manami whines a little, "I didn't get _that_ sick from the chocolate on the plane!"

"How about you eat them with a little bit of powdered sugar?"

Their oldest ponders the proposition for a moment before huffing a little bit and saying, "Fine. If that's what Papa wants …"

"That's exactly what Papa wants," Takeshi says with a wry grin at their Manami's antics. Haru can almost _hear _how he'll say later, _like mother, like daughter_. She rolls her eyes at him (which he counters with a well-aimed intense stare) and stands up from her chair. She takes a glance at her children, already busying themselves with the new playthings from Japan their family showered them with, and starts walking to the kitchen to cut the fruit up and maybe brew a pot of strong coffee.

—

He doesn't leave her alone very long. "Long time no see," he murmurs against her hair as he embraces her from behind.

"Fifteen days and seven hours," she says in a forcedly clipped tone, barely containing a sigh at the familiar warmth of his body behind hers.

"Still angry?"

She drops the paring knife and the apple on the cutting board before turning around and putting some semblance of a distance between them. "That you kidnapped my children to Japan without telling me while I was in Brazil for a mission? Yes. Yes, I am. I think I have a pretty good reason for that, Takeshi-kun."

"Oyaji wanted to see them and they wanted to see Oyaji. They have summer hols. I didn't see a reason why they shouldn't be allowed to go," Takeshi says calmly, frowning just a little bit. _I love you and I don't want to argue with you_, it says.

Sometimes she hates how well she knows him.

"Uh-huh." She turns around swiftly, starting to rummage through the cupboards for the powdered sugar. "So that's how our family works? The children _want_ something and you go up and decide that they can have it? Without any consultation with me. That's how it'll go from now on?" She glares hard at the stupid package of sugar when she finds it in the back of one cupboard.

"Haru," Takeshi-kun says to her back, "what's wrong? I couldn't_ call_, you know that, but I left a voice message on our answering machine, and I called you every day from Japan, but you just ignored me. If Chrome hadn't told me, I wouldn't even have known where you are."

Her shoulders slump.

She knows that. She knows all of that.

"Haru …" Her husband sighs. "Haru, _breathe_."

She didn't notice that she held her breath. Of course, he did.

Sometimes, she hates how well he knows her.

She turns around, hands clenching around the package of powdered sugar. "I was _so afraid_." She breathes in shakily. "I opened the door and expected my family … watching TV or napping or playing—just being _there_ after I didn't see you for a week, and there was _no one_. It was dark and I heard the clock tick and I was so afraid. Takeshi-kun." She doesn't dare to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Haru hears him sigh. She comes into his embrace almost automatically, now, and her heart starts slowing down as she feels his hand stroking her hair.

She hates fighting him. She hates worrying about him. She hates the last fifteen days and seven hours.

"I didn't think it'd be that difficult," Haru murmurs into the fabric of his shirt. _I know_, his lips whisper soundlessly against her skin. He asks, "How did the mission go?"

"Okay. I was—distracted and rusty, but it was fun, too. The … colleagues were nice. I really missed the thrill of field action." She sees half of his smile as he cradles her face in his warm hands. "I'm sorry, Takeshi-kun."  
>He shakes his head because he's lovely and wonderful like that. She loves that he doesn't gloat, doesn't say <em>I told you so<em>, _if you had listened to me, we wouldn't have been fighting at all—__instead, we'd be in our bedroom, greeting each other properly … _

Haru fights a blush, burying her head into her husband's shoulder. "How do you stand it?" Working, she means. Working, and always worrying that he won't come back alive, uninjured, always worrying about their little family, their safety, their lives, just because of his profession. And her profession.

"It's hard," he admits in a low tone, vulnerable in a way he so seldom is, "and some times, I don't even _know _how I do it.  
>It's 'cause I have trust in Tsuna, I think. In his vision for a peaceful future. And," he presses a kiss to her cheek, "it's because I trust <em>you<em>. I trust that you'll take care of yourself and the kids, that you'll protect them when I'm not there."

"Takeshi-kun …"

"I know that you do, too. I … get how difficult it is, after the last years. We'll just have to get used to it again." If she hears his voice, that big thing that filled her whole chest with fear and desperation and mindless anger seems to deflate so quickly. A little laughter escapes her throat. "Thank god I'm just a freelancer … Imagine how it'd be if I started working more than part-time …"

"You'd manage that, too, Haru. I'm sure." He smiles, rueful. "But I'm really, really glad that you don't want that."

She puts her hands around his neck, pulls him as close as humanly possible. Haru knows that he's sorry for not only how much he works, but how irregular, how dangerous it is. She knows how bad he feels for it, but she can't do anything to make it truly better—just as he can't really help her with her fears. These are just burdens they carry, together, of course, because they're a unit, a _family_, but so alone, too, because they're still individuals with own nightmares and dreams.

For now, she will sigh a little sigh, and breathe a little breath. She smiles: "Ne, Takeshi-kun, can you cut the apple rabbits?"

"I think that's possible," Takeshi says, smirking a little, and she recalls the time he used Shigure Kintoki to fillet the massive fish Hibari caught in the Mediterranean sea.

It's all for love, Haru remembers as she sees him cutting the apples into cute bites and measures the ground coffee beans, it's all for love, and it's all because of love.

Love for the Famiglia, love for Tsuna and all the other friends they made, love for the idealism with which Primo started the Vongola, love for their family, love for their children, love for each other.

And somehow, that's enough.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 3**: Some part of me searched a really long time at the genre section for a fitting second one after "Family" and what I wanted was something like "Love". Just as "Friendship" is a genre, I would like to have a "Love" one as well. Because at its core, I think, that's what this drabble is about.

Credit where credit is due: The title is from e. e. cummings' poem, " i carry your heart". I find him incredible. There is just something in his poems that makes me laugh, and cry, and swoon. And, this time, I searched a little bit longer for a title that would fit. And I think, it's something of a mix of "lull and storm (what shakes to the core)", "love", and that stanza of cummings' poem, all together.


	60. dust

**title**: hidden spots

**characters**: Yamamoto Takeshi, Miura Haru

**counting**: 273 words, published on 03/24/2013

**rating**: T for suggestive themes

**warnings**: Haru, being all adorable in her head; Yamamoto, being a lazy, arse.

**prompt**: 46—_dust_

**notes**: What did I say? I know, right? There I go, not updating for what feels like an _aeon_, and then, when I post, it's _this_?

I know, I know.

I'm an arse. A lazy arse. Like Yamamoto. (At least, _I_ cleaned my room today.)

**notes the second**: I'm not even worth having an Author's Note, because heck, what author pulls shit like me? (hear me wailing.)

Despite all that—I'd deeply and lowly and darkly and lightly appreciate input of any kind (and am still hoping for the 200 review mark to be reached with this drabble collection, hinthint).

See you next chapter (maybe around Easter where I have a few days off?),

—bells

* * *

><p><strong>dust<strong>

"It's dirty in here," Haru remarked, idly swiping a forefinger over one of the cupboards in his living room. "As always."

"It's a bachelor pad. I think it's supposed to be like that," Yamamoto-kun answered from where he sat on the couch, sprawled across the old, soft leather couch, eyes glued on the baseball game that was on. She sighed. _As always_.

"Yamamoto-kun's just lazy, that's it," she muttered under her breath.

"Hm, what is it?"

"Oh, nothing."Well, whatever. Haru shrugged a little before flopping down next to him on the couch, taking the other glass of milk from the coffee table and beginning to sip at it.

"You don't want to clean everything?" A little grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes didn't leave the television screen.

"Hahi?" Haru snorted—as delicately as that was possible—into her milk. "It's Yamamoto-kun's flat. If you want to live like a pig, more power to you."

He hummed in agreement, and she waited idly for the second inning to end and the advertisements to start. Like always, he turned the TV on mute during those few minutes, and it was then—while Yamamoto-kun went to the kitchenette, looking through his cupboards for something resembling foodstuff—that she added, "But just don't expect me to have sex with you in this sty anymore. _Ever_. Again."

Haru truly, _truly_ enjoyed the sound of the jar—probably that pistachio crème he always brought from Sicily—going to pieces as Yamamoto-kun's grip slackened around it.

"I won't tidy that up, you know, Yamamoto-kun," she called, idly, turning the sound of the TV on again, before collapsing into herself on the couch, shaking with silent laughter.

"Shut _up_, Haru."

(Oh, but sometimes, a girl just has to do what a girl has to do.)


	61. the road to hell

**title**: hidden spots

**characters**: Gokudera, Bovino, Yamamoto, Miura

**stats**: 789 words, published on 03/31/13

**rating**: T (just for the curse words)

**warnings**: Randomness! Funniness (I hope)!

**prompt**: 4—_lost scenes_

**notes**: When you have 64 prompts, after the fiftieth or so, you lose track of the ones you've filled already. It happened to me with _crumble_. And it's happened again, right now. Because I thought I hadn't filled 34—_roads_, but eh, I did.

But heck, why would you have a prompt called _lost scenes_ if you couldn't use is as your joker prompt? XD

Honestly, I love that prompt so much because it makes me think of amazing stories and even more amazing background stories and, well, lost scenes. I think I'm going to use it, someday, but for now … I'll just use it as my joker prompt.

Imsorrywellatleastalittlebit .

* * *

><p><strong>the road to hell<br>**_is paved with utter madness  
><em>

_._

_._

_._

_(WATCH **OUT**! OH MY GOD, WHAT THE—)  
><em>

_._

_._

_._

In Fuuta de la Stella's ranking book, Miura Haru was (surprisingly) ranked the best driver of this generation's Vongola Who Have a Driving License.  
>Be it aircraft (preferably hot air balloons, gliders, or helicopters), watercraft (mostly ships, boats, and submarines) or any other form of vehicle (motor bikes, tour buses, unicycles, sports cars).<p>

It was therefore unsurprising that she was more often than not the designated driver for the future head of Vongola and his Guardians.

It wasn't that they didn't all have a driving license—but people like Ryohei were just too … enthusiastic to not draw too much attention to them (they couldn't count the times rival Families had recognised the Sun Guardians peculiar (extreme) driving style, or how often the _polizia_, _police_, or _Polizei _had stopped them already), Gokudera was too impatient (also, smoking while driving was mostly frowned upon (and in some countries, illegal)), Lambo was still not eighteen, and … let's not get started with Hibari and Mukuro.

So, in the end, the task of bringing the guardians from one location to the other fell in the hands of Dokuro Chrome and Yamamoto Takeshi who were both acceptable drivers.

Why, you may ask, aren't there enough drivers in the Vongola to solve that problem anyways?

Of course, there _actually_ were enough drivers—only, they didn't really want to (not even with big pay raises as an offer (or bribe)).

"Sorry, Sir, but I'm not _mad_, ya know?" Had been one of the driver's statements.

Another driver had added: "Yeah, right? Nono, we don't wanna get _killed _by one of those crazy kids."

So, Nono had sighed, resigned, and started looking for good drivers in the Vongola who were brave (crazy) enough to chauffeur young Tsunayoshi-kun's Guardians around.

And, he had found her.

—

"We're going to _die_," Gokudera said matter-of-factly.

Yamamoto grinned a little (lopsidedly, but Gokudera couldn't really be sure of that, seeing how the car they were sitting in was in a strange 40°-angle to the left side), and replied over the sound of Lambo's screeching, "We're not."

Gokudera scoffed (as well as he could while his heart rate went something like 200bpm and while he tried to hide the genuine, utter _fear_ for his life). "And what is it that makes you so sure of that? Just 'cause she's your fucking girlfriend doesn't mean that she won't _kill _us with her freaking driving style."

The jeep rumbled and jolted over some kinda large … chunks of debris, over which the voice of Miura still could be heard.

"HARU-NEE—ARE YOU _STILL_ ON _SPEAKERPHONE WITH KYOUKO-NEE_?!" Lambo squealed (embarrassingly, but hey, he was still in puberty) from the passenger seat.

Yamamoto shrugged (or tried out whether his shoulder still worked after the last two or eight collisions), explaining that they were probably talking about their dresses for their Uni ball next week.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god," Lambo started chanting, putting his head into his hands like in a prayer or nausea.

"Can't believe I agree with the stupid-cow," Gokudera muttered under his breath, feeling the back of his head for any blood.

"We're not going to die," Yamamoto repeated over the sound of his girlfriend giggling over _shoe choices_. Hesounded pretty sure of that fact … despite all the glaring signs saying otherwise.

—

In front of one of the many Vongola mansions, two men stood together, inspecting the shining, completely intact jeep that had been taken for the latest mission with the Rain, Storm, and Lightning Guardian. "Not a scratch, after that kind of mission. Man, that girl's a _genius_."

"I know, right? I couldn't believe it at first, but here's the living proof that there's still a driving god."

Nono, in tow with the girl that was the topic of the hymn of praise, approached the two Vongola chauffeurs. "So, what do you say, signori?" Nono asked.

The two men looked at each other, then said simultaneously, "Approved."

The elder man turned to Miura, a proud smile on his face, "Well done, Haru-san."

In response, Miura clasped her hands, a big grin on her face. "Thank you, Nono. For everything." She bowed deeply, before flitting away with light steps.

"And manners, too," the first chauffeur murmured. "Nono, Asian people are really scary. Too talented. First Sawada from the CEDEF, then Decimo and his Guardians, now this girl."

Nono just smiled quietly in response.

—

"I have the job!" Haru squealed.

Yamamoto grinned, said, "Told you so," and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Somewhere in one corner, Lambo still sat with his head between his legs, muttering an almost incoherent string of _oh my god_s.

Gokudera just groaned from his place next to the toilet bowl.

* * *

><p><strong>notes the second<strong>: You people are so awesome. I want to hug all of you, for being amazing readers and reviewers and such. As always, feedback is appreciated very much. (200 reviews! Guys! I WANT 'EM. :D)

See you with the next drabbles!

—bells


	62. stand a little out of my sun, part 1

****title****: hidden spots

**characters**: Miura Haru, Yamamoto Takeshi

**stats**: 2122 words, published on 04/11/13

**rating**: M (sexual content, language)

**warnings**: /hahaomgwhathappened

**prompt**: 19—_itch_, 23—__range__, 39—__half life__, 63_—___laugh__

**notes**: It's gonna be a mini series (again). Say yay with me! There will be three drabbles (cause, as you know, I'm incompetent with my drabble-ing), and I won't have one drabble for each prompt, but three drabbles with always these four prompts. I think it's gonna work. I also think, god, am I butchering these 64 prompts. So, what do _you_ think? :D

**notes the second:** The writing style in this story was totally inspired by **chespin**'s Haru-centric oneshot "Concrete Feet" which is too amazing for words. I love it. I especially love how Haru's portrayed in her story; it's just so witty and sassy and funny. Anyways, I'm no good at writing Haru like that, and I'm okay with it because I don't want to just copy—but I tried, just a little bit, and I'm glad that it's still _my _Haru, just with a few more swear words and sass. Anyway! That was my shout-out because the story is just _so_ good. For anyone who likes Haru as a character, I full-heartedly recommend the story :)

**notes the third:** All the syntax craziness is on purpose. I stopped writing like that maybe two, three years ago (before I got to love using as many brackets and hyphens as writerly possible), but there has been a time where I liked breaking down sentences, a little bit like enjambments in poems, and I think it fit with the story somehow, so I digged up a little of my old style :)

**notes the fourth:** The title is a quote from Diogenes of Sinope, also called Diogenes the Cynic. I always remember my Greek Teacher telling us this story about a guy who lives in this dustbin and goes around being an ancient smartarse :D Of course, he didn't live in a dustbin, but you know ... kid's imagination?

* * *

><p><strong>stand a little out of my sun<br>**

This story doesn't start with a knock on a door.

It doesn't, because it isn't starting—it's simple as it is, because stories—_lives_—don't just start, or end. They continue, and they fall apart, and they come together, and one story is maybe more like a thousand stories.

So, this story doesn't start with a knock on a door.

—

_part one_

—

He knocks on her door.

"Yes?" Haru says in Japanese (because fuck hell to anyone who wants to speak with her at three in the morning who can't talk to her in her mother tongue. Actually, fuck hell to _anyone_ at all who wants to speak with her at three AM, for heaven's sake).

"It's me. Can I come in?" _Oh._ She can't help the small sound escaping her throat. A jolt of pure electricity shoots through her spine. "Yes," she says, trying to sound casual and cool and everything she's— just not. Right now.  
>It's three AM, what do you expect? A girl dressed in sexy lingerie, writhing on silky bed sheets? A cute, sleepyhead kind of girl with the sweetest pink plaid shorter-than-short pyjama bottoms and sleep-mussed curls and the laziest, most adorable smile?<p>

"You're still up," Yamamoto says quietly, not quite in greeting really, as he pushes the door behind him shut softly. He takes her in: the reading glasses, the ponytail, the paperback. Also, the cotton camisole, the toes peeking out from under her blanket, the absence of a bra.

"I couldn't sleep," she explains as she follows his gaze steadily. A wry smile curves around her mouth. "How did the mission go?"

"Fine." He smiles back. "As always, I guess."

"Natural-born hitman," she comments plainly—is it a compliment, an insult? Who knows.

She puts the book on her bed stand. Her shirt rides up with the motion, and Yamamoto swallows hard, and Haru sees it, and—

She pushes her blankets aside, sitting up properly, _seiza, like you learned __in your stupid Ikebana classes__, just that your skirt wasn't quite as short then as your sleeping wear is now_. "Come here, Yamamoto-kun," she asks, beckoning with a hand. He complies, lets out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry for intruding so late in the night," he says with that self-deprecating smile, and sighs again as she raises her hand just a little bit more, to touch. He lets her pull him closer by her hand, until his lower legs touch the edge of the bed, his hand still in hers, but nothing more.

"I don't mind," she finally replies. She almost blushes at the understatement. "And I heard some of the rookies talk about their missions with you and Ryohei-san. Were _we_ ever that … hubristic?"

"Hubristic?" He grins genuinely amused, and something cold and clammy in her chest just _melts_ at the sight. "No, I don't think so. Not really. But we never thought we were entitled to anything. Most of the people here knew from the moment they were born that they would get into Vongola." His smile, that one that hurts her in the chest because she never wants to see it on his face, appears on his face again, and she just can't help herself, she hugs him before he can react.

(It's not really as if he _couldn't—_natural-born hitman, right?—but more like, he's exhausted and tired and annoyed and. This is _Haru_.)

.

To his defence, it starts innocent enough.

She raises to her knees on the soft mattress, wraps her arms around his torso and breathes deeply, slowly. He returns the gesture automatically—each hand around one side of her waist, slackening his shoulders, bending down just a little to accommodate the height difference between the two of them.

For a few small moments, they stay silent, taking comfort in the embrace, in each other.

Then-… Haru starts, changes.

It begins in the hollow of his throat, nips and kisses there. Her lips raise to the line of his jaw, touching there, gently first, then firmer. She bites into his earlobe and smirks when she hears him exhale a little more loudly than before.

She concentrates on his collarbone, all tongue and soft, pliable lips, because come _on_, they're not god-forsaken teenagers anymore, bite marks (where they can be seen) are so not cool.

She's never done that before, is the thought that shoots through his befuddled brain, and something about that makes his mouth go dry. His knuckles are white with how tight they're clenched at his sides. Yamamoto concentrates on, you know, breathing and standing and stuff, so it's a sudden surprise when Haru's nimble fingers reach the last button of his pristine, totally blood-free dress shirt. It's attack time now, her mouth motions kindly—nipping, suckling, biting, kissing all over his torso. Her fingers play, idly, with the hem of his shirt she pulled out from his pants (how? when?) before moving to hook into his unused loop belts, pulling just a little closer.

They're flush against each other.

Then, she moves her hips just _so_, and one hand ghosts over his fly, and. God _damn_.

(How is it that she can make him feel like a fucking virgin with just one little touch?)

"Haru," he says. His voice is low, throaty.

What is it, she doesn't want to ask. She's breathless for more than one reason. There was something like a reprimand in that one word, in his voice, but not just. A gentleness, something like adoration, but with the cutting edge of protest, telling her _we should stop, we need to stop_ without really telling her. She's not okay with that but he doesn't need to see.

And he doesn't, does he? The desire, definitely; the determination, of course, the softness, surely; but not the hurt, never the hurt.

With one last (wonderful, open-mouthed, mind-breaking) press of her mouth to his rip cage, she lets go of him. One hand comes down to the mattress, steadying herself as she stands up. Somehow, it feels … better this way (not somehow, you slut, not somehow but _this_-how: you were kneeling in front of him, and your fucking mouth was on the same level as his abs, and _possibly lower_, oh my _god—_shut up, brain, I'm gonna—). The mattress gives in where she stands and it's—it's a _lot_ annoying how she is standing on a god-forsaken _bed_ and still not much taller than he is.

(Actually, his eyes are in direct line with her _breasts_, but eh_—_)

He says her name again, this time like one would say _I'm sorry. S_he's glad that he doesn't.

She's _exceptionally_ glad when he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, when he cups her face in his warm hands. When he shoots her a smile that tastes like surrender.

When he pulls her in for a kiss that makes her forget about, well, everything.

Even about the fact that he's giving off mixed signals. It doesn't matter because-… because his mouth is devouring hers, surely and knowingly. Just what makes you sway the most? His lips ask. I want to know. They tease. His teeth graze her bottom lip, then soothe with his tongue. _Igniting_, when the sting fades and all (everything) that is left is her mouth opening under his, and then.

It feels like years.

There, he lets her go—not before capturing her bottom lip with his teeth, sucking for the tiniest of fractions in time; not before pressing the sweetest, ache-inducing kiss to her still half-opened mouth.

Something about the way his breathing sounds as ragged and harsh as hers makes her want him even more than she did before that kiss, before that embrace, before he entered her room at frigging three in the morning. She shivers just a little bit at the way his lips and breath _touch, untouch, touch, untouch _the thin, sensitive skin over her throat where her blood thrums away.

Her heart races away with a question: _Why are you so hesitant_ _tonight_?

There's the tiniest, tiniest, tiniest fleck of blood at the back of his neck; Haru only sees it because of the way they're standing—she's in a position where she's taller than Yamamoto, and his forehead rests against her sternum where he breathes life and goosebumps into her skin—and she thinks she can answer her own question. She thinks, you're such an idiot, Yamamoto-kun. Isn't it obvious that I'm utterly and madly–…

Haru also thinks, gosh, stop. And she thinks, what a weirdo are you for not freaking out because of the blood?

Because she isn't.

Her hands don't get clammy because she imagines slashed bodies and dead people and the things that come with the title of 'natural-born hitman' when it's bestowed by Reborn at the age of fucking fifteen. In the end, it's simple as this: these boys, they're still the stupid chauvinistic idiots they have always been, and sometimes, she doesn't understand how any female can stand being in their suffocating, guilt-ridden presence.

You can't do anything (not even slap them in the face) when they think that you're better of without them. Better protected. It's shit (because where is she, seven years later? In one of the many Vongola bases, learning to speak perfect Italian and English, being a hobby seamstress for the Vongola ladies, training her aim with bow and arrow, guns, darts, or just some left-over grapes, being a part of the brainy team), but no matter how often she tells him, he just doesn't … _understand._ And she doesn't know what to do about it.

"Haru," he repeats for the third time.

"Did you change your mind about this?" She replies, tone gentler than she thought she could produce. It's the second time Haru's asked him this, and while the first time she was just that bit too angry to really care for his god-forsaken answer, that stupid arsehole, this time, it makes her kind of want to curl up around her favourite Pokémon plushie and just _cry_ because she just doesn't fucking know how to change this god-forsaken situation. There is just no solution in which she can partake. She is an absolutely passive variable in this, and she _hates _it.

It's just … still, despite it all, she doesn't hate _him_.

Yamamoto stares at her, pupils dilated and hazy, and she wants to _kill _herself for feeling like getting … some sweaty sexy time is the best idea just as long as his eyes stay just like that. Focused. Warm. Intent.

He knows her well, Yamamoto, and he sees the signs and interprets them correctly, and it makes him want to do … well. Stuff. (Like kissing her until she faints. Lapping at her until she comes to life again. Giving her so much pleasure she can't recount the times they changed positions, after.)

"No," he says after what feels like a lifetime of eyeing each other like they want to devour one another, _stat,_ "No, I didn't change my mind."

(If it was just the physical thing, I'd be easy. Despite how he usually feels around Miura Haru, Yamamoto is not more sex-focused than your run-of-the-mill guy, just wanting to get laid by the run-of-the-mill girl, and if it were just about that—their sexual chemistry, he could get over it.

But it isn't, and it's not that easy.)

He's kissing her again, but this time, it's just side noise to the shocking thrill of him pulling her camisole over her head, hands touching the uncovered skin, and if it were the second or even the _tenth _time that this happened, she would still feel self-conscious 'cause that's just what Haru _does_, but she doesn't, not for one tiny second. What does that say about her life, she thinks, and then—his mouth leaves hers, moves south, she gasps embarrassingly loud, pushes his head closer. And then, she moans because _oh_, and if that isn't the most arousing sound he's pulled out of her this night, he doesn't know.

Her fingers trace the button of his pants again, purposely, forcefully, and for one moment, he raises his head from her chest and she opens her clouded eyes and stops touching. And they just look at each other.

Tonight is not the night to talk about this relationship.

No doubts, no questions.

She nods a little, smiles shakily and lovely and miserably, and says, "It's been five weeks."

He breathes in deeply, flooded by the faint fragrance of her hair he hasn't noticed before, and pushes her down, limbs fumbling, until they're both sitting on the bed. Forgetting everything but each other.

.

This is nothing but sex, they decide.

Mind-blowing, amazing sex.

Nothing more.

—

(A tiny spoiler: Of course it's everything but _nothing but_.)

—

_end part one_

* * *

><p>Surprise, surprise!<p>

At least, that's what it was supposed to be. I don't think Haru _or _Yamamoto knew they'd get some at 3 AM. But, well.  
>Things happen?<p>

Leave me some love/reviews/cake! Or at least a ... fan or something to hide my embarrassed face, haha.

Love,  
>—bells<p> 


	63. stand a little out of my sun, part 2

Okay, part two out of three. The second-to-last thing in this anthology thing.

You people have been amazing to me. You have made my day and my night and my everything a little bit brighter—because I love writing, I do, but love being read and heard as well, so. And it's awesome to know that with this kind of minor ship I'm writing, there are still people out there who like what I do.

I'm very busy with University and family situations right now, so maybe, this thing won't stop being WIP until 2015, like I don't even know. But it'll get finished (as will my other 3121 things, hopefully, eventually) and I thank everyone who will read and review and okay.

I'll stop right here or this A/N will become longer than the frigging chapter. It's already a lot sappier.

I don't even remember how I usually did this starter thing again, so I'll just say: **disclaimed** on my profile. **Prompts** used were itch (19), range (23), half-life (39) and laugh (63). Approx. word count: 3300. This is a strong **M** for crass language (ouch, spoiler, that almost-last line, _ouchhhh_) and also, for broom closet sessions of the sex kind (there, I said it), and it's still Yamamoto and Haru because I love them (even though I'll never understand why). Also, this is all over the place and slightly crappy (and I'm not saying this to get something going on my fishing boat called _for compliments_) but right know,"I don't care just what you say, as long as it's about me" and so on ;)

Let's get it going.

I still don't have, like, that cool trademark hello/bye phrase, so just—hm. I'll write something German that sounds nice and you won't know what it is and it's all very mysterious yessssss.

Stilles Mineralwasser mit natürlicher Süße aus Früchten (Äpfel und Zitronen, um genau zu sein),

—bells

* * *

><p><strong>stand a little out of my sun<strong>

Their situation is not very well known of. They don't know how they managed _that _because first of all, they're in the Mafia, and rumours travel fast. Second, they're kind of _important_ Mafia, and rumours travel even faster.

Thirdly, they're a hot guy and a hot girl, and two attractive-looking people having a no-strings-attached kind of relationship always calls for drama.

Most important of all, though, they have incredibly nosy friends and tutors and acquaintances who can't seem to realise what _not your fucking business, bitch _means.

Yamamoto thinks the whole thing is kept under tight wraps by Tsuna who probably pulled a few strings (Chrome's illusions have gotten _really_ good over the years, and while Mukuro has all the crazy stuff in petto, Chrome has concentrated on the more real stuff: torturing methods including rusty nails for example, or veiling and unveiling (mostly deadly) rumours by twirling a strand of violet-shining hair between two fingers), but Haru believes it's because Reborn doesn't want anyone to fear Yamamoto less than they do by making him fallible to breasts and vaginas. And well. Both lines of reasoning kind of make a lot of sense.

But whatever—being friends with benefits has never been easier in a story, so that's something to be happy about.

Right?

Right.

—

_part two_

—

Haru works under the assumption that Sawada Tsunayoshi is the man who will change the Mafia world, that this is all for the greater good. She believes in the things she does, but she also _loves_ what she does, and she _knows_ that she is _amazing_ at what she does.

Having had nothing to do but clean and cook in a future that will never be hers (at least for this universe), had given her a lot of bored spare time in which she could talk with Giannini and look at all the cool futuristic computer programs, and then, the present that was changed has given her Irie Shouichi who sometimes baby-sat Lambo with her and Kyouko. Where Shouichi is, Spanner isn't a long way away (like hello, 21st century, like hello, internet_)_, so yeah.

People usually forget that she's been to Midori Middle School (and High, and _then_, Todai, and also, a semester abroad in Stanford), but whenever someone hears her talk to some of her nerd friends, they remember again.

And then, they flee for the headache caused by talk about _eh what Schrödinger? I just know his cat okay yeah I'm gonna go watch some American TV bye_.

Haru doesn't mind. She knows what she is, and what she does, and she knows the action guys snicker behind their backs about the scientists; not only in the Vongola but everywhere 'cause that's just how life rolls. She's above it, really.

She still enjoys the stares she gets whenever she walks around with her latest underling, however. Immensely_._

Because Teahan is the most beautiful, most gorgeous, prettiest, _hottest_ guy she has ever had the pleasure to stare and ogle at. On a regular basis. In a completely professional way. Of course.

(And, honestly, that's really saying something, seeing how she's been surrounded by _bishies _since her teenager years.)

Seriously though, Haru _isn't _solely responsible for who gets admitted into their little band of nerdy happiness, and if Teahan hadn't been the best contender, she would have definitely vetoed his admission.

"The girls are still lusting after you, I see," Haru says, not without glee. She'd throw her luscious brown locks over her shoulder like a little bitch if she still could (damn that hair stylist who swore _on his mother's life_ that she would _love_ that long bob 'do) but she knows what will irk them a lot more, so she steps just a bit closer to Teahan and links arms with him. Haru smirks, just for the fun of it.

"Yeah, I guess so," he mumbles. _Cute_. Haru still can't believe that the boy is even shier/shyer than fifteen-year-old _Irie Shouichi_. "Stop staring at me," he orders after a few moment of awkwardness, and Haru grins because, gosh, is he _blushing_? That's adorable. "I said, stop it," he repeats weakly.

"It's fine, Teahan," she coos. She pats him on the shoulder and lingers just a second too long on his biceps. "I'm just desensitizing you."

He mutters something about sexual harassment, and Haru replies with something about Mafia and keeping your mistresses. When he shoots her an incredulous (shocked, and also, _fearful_) look, she bursts out in laughter. He's such a darling.

"Stop teasing the poor guy, Haru." Shouichi appears from thin air (honestly. He does. That's what Reborn gets from giving Leon to him as a lab rat/chameleon) just to show her his judgemental puppy eyes and frowning mouth. "Don't you have anything better to do than this?"

"We were just going to fetch Spanner from his match against the Storm Guardian," Teahan objects quickly, and Haru everything but melts into a puddle on the ground.

See, that's the real, honest-to-god reason why she likes the guy so much. She hasn't been around someone so … _earnest_,sweet for a long while.

She throws Shouichi a look that means everything along the lines of 'see, he loves me', 'you're just annoyed he likes me better than you', and 'how can that boy be such a genius comp scientist and be so beautiful and have such a nice personality? Do _you _get that?', shrugs and asks, "Wanna tag along?"

Shouichi sighs, long and deep and just so _Shouichi_, "Sure. Whatever." But he can't completely hide the gleam of interest in his eyes—the sight of mighty Gokudera getting beaten up by Spanner's newest Mosca version 2385-A is something none of them can really spurn.

(And also, yeah, no one's saying that Spanner gets more creative the more Moscas he builds.)

—

When they arrive at one of the many training areas, labelled T02 just so that it can be especially easily remembered, yep, the guys have already started.

Gokudera, because he is still that stupidly temperamental guy, fills the area with shouting and curse words and other things of which Haru has learned the hard way that she can't really stand them for more than maybe thirty minutes a day.

On the other hand, Gokudera is so predictable. It's not that she's _especially _good at seeing the patterns of human behaviour, but come on. It's obvious. He wouldn't swear if he was winning—he'd be _gloating_ like the arse he is just for the sake of keeping that reputation he spent so much time on building.

Haru thinks—like she always does about the first-hand man—it incredibly stupid and very honourable. The thing's just, Tsuna is the best Don anyone could wish for. He's kind, he has charisma, he went through years of Reborn's Training from Hell. No one, be it rival or ally, would doubt his fighting capabilities or his leadership quality. But to be honest, people don't really cower in fear of Tsuna. That's kind of part of Gokudera'srole in the Vongola, and it _is _truly useful to have a snarling, frothing guy at your side whose Mafia nickname is also _Smoking Bomb_.

All personal differences aside, Haru respects Gokudera for the devotion towards their boss.

She'd rather spar with Hibari than tell him that, but that's another different story altogether.

"Hey guys," Spanner says, eyes on the Mosca-version-whatever while his fingers fly over the keyboard of his controller. His brow is furrowed in concentration, but there's still the lollipop in his mouth.

"Looks good," Shouichi remarks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Spanner just hums in assent and Haru grins at the exchange. They're just such nerd bros_. _

"I told you the laser beams would be useful," Teahan says matter-of-factly, and Haru mock-frowns and replies, well, isn't _every_thing better with laser beams?

And well. The guys don't really know how to answer that question without sounding … like the lunatic scientists they are at heart.

–

Four-and-a-half rounds later into the game—because isn't it, at least from Spanner's POV, rather like a simulated video game that you can play in the pachinko halls?—some more people join the show.

There's Lambo, who always enjoys seeing Gokudera's butt being used to wipe the floor, and also Collonello—who's come to visit a few days ago—and well, there's Yamamoto.

They're greeting the newcomers with a round of hellos and how are yous and no it's nothing bad, that smell's just Gokudera's singed hair it's nothings.

Quietly, with an amused grin and his gaze trained on Gokudera and the Mosca, Yamamoto settles himself next to her.

And not for the first time (and not for the last time, either) Haru wonders how it is that she feels his presence so … acutely. He's emanating body heat, and his shirt looks so crisp and uncomfortable, and his suit coat looks so perfectly tailored, and his voice is so nice as he begins to chat with Shouichi.

(You're such a stupid frigging idiot, she tells herself in her head. He's _human and alive_, of course he's warm. Also, _every_one looks better in a suit.)

The skin on her forearms feels over-sensitive, like the smallest touch could be painful.

But he doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

They're in public, and they're friends with fucking benefits, and _this is not the time to feel so much_.

There never is. There shouldn't ever be.

Teahan at her other side throws her a careful look (did you know he graduated with a . in Psychology before he started going into Engineering?), and when he sees her looking back, he lifts the corners of his mouth into the most beautiful, encouraging smile.

God, Teahan, she wants to say. Don't make me cry in front of all these people, she wants to say.

For a moment, his eyes flicker to Yamamoto.

You don't understand at all, she wants to say.

—

"Soo," Lambo says, stretching the vowel unnaturally long as they move through the halls of the Vongola training building.

"So?" Yamamoto repeats.

"So."

Three syllables and they've come to an impasse already. Yamamoto grins as Lambo punches the exit code for Arena 2 into the touchpad at the door.

"What I _mean_ is, _so _you won't ask me anything about the incredibly hot guy that was with Haru and I'm telling that as a straight male who thinks himself the greatest gift to the female populace?"

Yamamoto laughs, and cocks his head to the side. "What are you talking about, Lambo? It's a colleague, I guess?"

Lambo grumbles something, trying to walk more quickly, and grumbling even more when he realises he looks stupid walking so quickly next to someone whose legs are ("—still! That's so unfair!") just a little longer.

"YES OF COURSE IT'S A FUCKING COLLEAGUE BUT I DON'T MEAN THAT AND YOU KNOW THAT DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME YOU BASTARD," Lambo says. "ARGHGLEEGJLSJDF."

"Excuse me?" Yamamoto asks, clueless and suave, and Lambo just doesn't get how the guy does that.

"Oh man," the Lightning Guardian mutters. He punches the wall to his right, and continues muttering … stuff under his breath.

"What—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP—"

"Haha … okay … ?" Yamamoto grins and follows his fellow Guardian on his way to Tsuna's office.

Before they enter the elevator, Lambo turns sharply on his heel to throw a big, old frown at Yamamoto (whose countenance doesn't show cracks. It never does).

"I know about Haru and you." There's always something like a drawl in Lambo's voice, which is probably why no one takes him very seriously. But in this moment.

Well.

There is really no time to think things through. _I don't need _quick _reactions from you_, Reborn had said to him, a lifetime ago. You have to be the fastest one out there.

And he is.

(It's about Haru, of course he is.)

"It's nothing."

(_You idiot_, he hears Reborn say in his head. _How often have I told you not to lie? You're the worst liar I've ever met. Idiot. Everyone can see—_)

Lambo, not missing a beat, snorts. "It's not nothing. I've seen how you look at her. Honestly, _everyone_'s seen it. It's ridiculous."

Yamamoto sighs. "So it's not _nothing_. It's just—" he sighs again. "Sex. It's just sex."

"One: eww, you didn't need to tell me _that_. It's still Haru-nee we're talking about. With you. Ew. Second: It's not, stop lying to yourself." Lambo stares at him really determinedly. "Stop lying to _her_."

Yamamoto laughs (because that's what he does, that's his fucking _thing_, to just laugh all the stupid pain away) and tells Lambo: "I don't know what you think you know … but I'm just doing what she wants."

"And _I_ don't know what _you _think you know," Lambo snarks back, "… but seriously, take your head out of your freaking ass and _stop_. _Pretending_. Haru-nee is freaking in love with you, and if she doesn't _realise_ it, well, bad luck! You fucking _make_ her realise it."

Okay, so this is crazy. "Lambo, how old are you?"

Lambo looks whip-lashed. "What."

"You've wanted a fake ID for partying, right?"

"What."

"I'll arrange it. C'mon, let's go meet Tsuna."

After all, he can't go around letting people think that he's taking love advice from a fifteen-year-old kid.

—

Ultimately, Haru isn't taken by surprise very often.

It's mostly because of her own weirdness, to be honest, because people who fancy themselves _cute_ in a Namehage costume, people who splutter _Hahi_ like it's a meaningful word for years just for the fun of it, people who are even the slightest bit like Miura Haru—well, you gotta surprise them real big for it to make an impression.

Not very surprisingly is also the fact that Yamamoto Takeshi is a real artist at Surprising Miura Haru. It's a) because you know, he's a fucking assassin for a Mafia family, but mostly it's because b) he just knows what buttons to push.

It's not something Haru likes to admit, or even acknowledge, but that's the simple truth. Whatever it is, they're just clicking in a way that makes Haru jumpy.

.

For example, take the situation right now.

"Yesterday, you sneaked out of your own bedroom. At 4 AM. Why is that?" And before Haru can react at all to the sentence murmured into her ear, she feels the pull of a hand around her wrist, and hears the sound of a door opening, and gets pushed against it after it being closed on the other side.

She guesses the "_[out of your own bedroom] … after we had amazing sex. I was up for cuddling_" is kind of implied.

Hmm …

Her eyes take in the dimly-lit surroundings, the dusty wooden cabinets, the mop and bucket in one corner of the room. Instead of answering, she notes, "I wouldn't have pegged you for a broom closet kinda guy, honestly." Because that's just it. Taking her by surprise was not the fact that she was being pushed into a room with her friend with whom she also sleeps on a bi-weekly basis. It's the choice of location that does it. (Also, so what? Maybe—well, maybe, she's just that good of a pal. Maybe it's just that she tosses and turns a lot in her sleep and she wanted to do him the favour of not strangling him in her sleep?

In the end, the question is: _What is it to him?_)

Her eyes still adjust to the poor lighting but he is so close to her that she can feel how he shrugs. "Do you mind?"

Haru grins a bit at that. She doesn't, of course. (Kind of. Depending on the variable possibilities of interpreting his sentence under a not-yet fixed domain of discourse.)

No one uses this part of the building after 5 PM on a Friday. He knows that. She knows that.

So, it makes sense to get pulled into a broom closet in this part of the building because no one with super-hearing or hyper intuition will come by to knock on the door and be a messy cock-block.

She kisses him first, just because she can (goddammit, they're fuck buddies, of course she can kiss him. It's not like it _matters_), but on the cheek and says: "I don't. Beds can be so boring after a while." She infused her voice with flirtatiousness and made it sound extra-airy and light.

Just for a millisecond, she feels like she could have tasted something akin to surprise on his warm skin if she had tried a little harder. His jaw is taut, but not for long enough to really remember the feeling of it beneath her fingertips.

"Is that so?" He asks lowly in return. He grasps her hand on his face and pulls it down, interlacing them. It's a sweet gesture, innocent in the way standing in a broom closet with a handsome young man shouldn't be. "Is that how you want it to be?"

There's something heavy in his tone that doesn't fit (with the sex, with the want, with the super-enforced casualness between the two of them).

Surprises.

He's full of them today.

"You mean a quick little number in a broom closet with a hot guy? Sure." But she can't let herself be surprised. She just can't.

Her smile is a million watt at least. It's supposed to light up the room. Make everything shine.

He breathes out, and goosebumps trail down her arms. His lips touch her forehead, pressing a kiss to it quickly. "I won't let go of you," he promises (her heart rate doubles, surely), and lifts her up, pushing her against the door. Automatically her legs find their way around his hips, her arms twine around his neck, gripping the fabric of his T-shirt in the back tightly.

He peppers light kisses on all the skin he can reach in this position. Her jawline (not nearly as gorgeous as his), her cheeks, her temples, the shell of her left ear. Then, the spot where her neck and her shoulder meet, her collar bone, the little bit of décolleté her modest blouse shows. Her body feels on fire. A hum is going through her body, from her toes to her fingertips. He kisses her lips, and her mouth opens under his without her even noticing it. Her heart feels on fire.

The thing is, she knows how to do this.

First, she parts her lips from his. Then, she grabs for his shirt and pulls it over his head. He holds her by the hips, easily, like a lot of things seem to him. She can't help but lick a long trail down his flexing upper arm, and if he starts trembling, just the slightest bit, well, that's just added bonus.

Quickly, she unbuttons her blouse. Unclasps her bra. (She doesn't play at being coy with him, and they both (should) know what this is all about.) She wraps her arms around his neck again, puts her lips on the pulse point on his neck, and only then starts grinding against him.

The effect is marvellous.

His knees buckle and he opens his mouth for the most arousing sound, and it's always surprising how easily side-tracked guys seem when sex is in the picture, but this time, Haru is just glad that's how it is because it makes everything a lot easier for her.

After all, she's not in it for the talking, or the feelings, or the mutual respect and companionship.

It's just fucking.

—

(Also, it's the ten thousands of inferences she denies to have made, all of the time. Truth is, no one can stop themselves from thinking, and even less from feeling.)

—

_end part 2_


End file.
